


Pity Us, We Wakeful

by Gabrielle



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 148,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/pseuds/Gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Set during Season Six of BTVS and Season Three of A:tS* When Willow's addiction to magic destroys her relationship with Tara and results in grave injury to Dawn, Buffy decides that Willow's recovery will go better away from the Hellmouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Prologue)

 

_This isn't about punishment, Will." Buffy's arms are around her, but Willow can't feel them. All she can feel is emptiness – the absence of magic, but worse still, the absence of love. _

'Come to me.' She can see Rack beckoning, offering bliss and freedom, and all he wants is…

Everything.

Buffy is talking again. "A little time away will be good for you, you'll see. And once you get a handle on this thing, you'll be back and everything will be just the way it was."

Xander is nodding. Is that strange tilt of his mouth somehow supposed to be a smile? Anya is just standing there. Willow has no idea what the two of them are thinking. Maybe they're glad to see her go. And Willow? Willow is trying to remember a time when she was foolish enough to believe that there was pie in the sky.

'Strawberry pie,' Rack says softly.

Willow stays entangled in Buffy – tears running down her cheeks. It isn't that she's crying. No, she's just drowning from the inside.

 

Willow leaned her head against the car window – eyes closed. Watching the lights flash by just made her gorge rise and the last thing she wanted to do was anger Spike by making him stop again for her to vomit. Twice had been enough. A third time and…well, he probably couldn't do anything to her, but she was already so despised that she wasn't sure that one more atom of rage or even just irritation directed at her wouldn't make her explode into a thousand painful pieces - the pieces she should have been sliced into by the windshield of a stolen car.

If she lived to be a thousand, she would never forget the look of betrayal and hatred in Dawn's eyes.

Why had it gone so wrong so fast? Why hadn't she seen? Why had just being good at helping Buffy not been enough? She wanted so badly to find the day, the hour, the minute when the switch had flipped and the lights had gone off. She'd give anything, _anything_ to go back, to be a good girl, to be Tara's girl – the little Wicca-wannabe toddling along at Tara's heels.

But it was all gone now – all of it. No Buffy, no Dawn, no Xander…and no Tara. Willow was nothing now, nobody. No magic, no friends, no lover. She wondered if she'd ever matter, ever be anything ever again.

What would Jesse think if he saw her now?

 

_"Spike, look, I don't want to talk about…that thing that happened." _

He smirks as the colour rises in her cheeks. She wants him – needs him – she just isn't ready to admit it yet. That's okay. Wouldn't have expected any different from a Slayer, really. They're always about fighting, even when they're fucking. He knows that for a fact now. It's written in the scratches that even now tell their secrets in faint pink lines on his chest – probably on his back and arse as well, though he can't see those.

"So what is it you're here for? 'Cause you seem all wound up to me. A bit…itchy." His eyes slide smooth and slow down her form, stopping at the place between her thighs – her home. It's where the last, best part of who she used to be lives; it's what he'll use to turn her back into Buffy, the Buffy he fell in love with.

"You're gross, Spike," she huffs, acting as if she doesn't know he can _smell_ the need, wet and musky, already building right where he wants to be. "This is about Willow."

Willow? What the hell makes the Slayer think he gives a damn about the witch? After that stunt she pulled the other night, Willow's damn lucky he didn't rip her head off, chip or no. If his Bit had been killed… "What about her?"

"She…it's not a good idea for her to stay here. There's too much temptation. If she's going to get clean, she has to be away from Amy and Rack and the Hellmouth."

"And?" He's not getting what any of this has to do with him yet.

"I called…I called Angel and…and they've agreed that she can stay there for a little while. But she's not in any shape to drive herself, what with the withdrawal and all and besides, it's probably not a good idea for her to take off by herself and…"

No, no, no! "I'm not a bloody chauffeur. Tell the whelp or his demon bride to drive the pathetic chit to rehab."

Now she turns it on – soft, liquid eyes, quivering mouth. The full 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope' treatment. He's a worthless tosser if he falls for this. "They won't," she says. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for further explanation and after a moment, she caves. "They don't like the idea. They think she can get better here. But she can't, Spike." The eyes now glisten, moist and pleading.

Oh bloody, buggering hell. "Alright," he says. "But don't expect me to make nice with her." He doesn't mention Angel. He won't mention Angel.

 

Spike had to give the little witch credit for one thing: she didn't raise any objections to the music he listened to. He was blaring the Sex Pistols at top volume and she didn't even grimace. Of course, the sudden sick breaks were a pain in the arse, but… His eyes wandered over to where she sat, leaning against the car window, bleeding pain from every pore but keeping it all to herself. Damn! As much as he hated her for messing with his head (again) and for risking Dawn's life, he was starting to pity her. There was a something he'd seen in her eyes – or really a something that he _hadn't_ – that reminded him of a poet at a party long ago.

Thank fuck she had her eyes closed now. He was free to focus on the road, and on the prize waiting for him back in Sunnydale.

Buffy – definitely a notch on any vampire's belt. But he loved her, too – that was true and pure and undeniable. It burned hotter than even the blazing inferno that was his passion for Drusilla. And now that he'd finally tasted the heaven between her thighs? He was as hooked on her as ever Willow was on magic.

The difference was that _this_ addiction would do some good. He'd fix Buffy; make her well; bring her back to life in a way that Willow had never, _could_ never manage. She'd be his and she'd love him back – see him for what he was – the man who could be, no _was_, her everything.

He stared into the darkness ahead as Willow fell into fitful slumber in the passenger seat and he stepped on the gas. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'

 

_"All I'm saying is that I think Willow needs her friends right now. I don't see what a bunch of people who barely know her and don't care about her can do that we can't." _

"They're her friends, too, Xander. And more importantly, they're away from the Hellmouth and magic and everything that will tempt Willow. They can watch out for her."

"And we can't?" Xander's furious; he truly is. It wasn't a week ago that Buffy was pooh-poohing his warnings that Willow was headed for a meltdown and now that it's happened, she's acting like she knows everything.

So why is he letting her?

"I think what Xander is saying is that you're really not the best judge of what to do for Willow. Seeing as how you thought she was just fine a couple of days ago." There are times when Anya's lack of tact is embarrassing and painful. And then there are times when it's what he loves best about her.

He gives her a soft look…but he doesn't back her up. Instead, he lets Buffy have the floor. "I get that I underestimated the extent of her problem, but I think that as her best friend, I still know her better than you do. And what I know," she's addressing them both now, "is that Willow needs someplace safe. Someplace where she won't be reminded of doing spells. Someplace where she can get back to being our Willow again."

Xander caves in. All these years and he realizes that he'll always defer to Buffy. No matter who he loves, no matter what he knows, he'll always doubt that she can be wrong. "Okay," he says as Anya stares cold fury at him. "But I'm not happy about it." That's as close to defying Buffy as he's come since the day he threatened to kill her if Willow died.

"And we're not taking her to L.A.," Anya adds.

Of course, Buffy hadn't expected that. "But…"

"No." Anya is emphatic enough to hold Xander at bay. "If you think it's such a great idea to pack Willow off to stay with your ex-boyfriend who barely knows her and a girl who probably still hates her for stealing Xander, then you can drive her there yourself. Xander and I have wedding plans to make and they need to be made here." Anya decides she needs to clarify that. "In Sunnydale, not in the Magic Box."

That's that, and while a part of Xander finds something disturbingly positive in his willingness to let Anya order him around instead of Buffy, lost in all of this is his connection to Willow. He misses it, all the more so because he can't remember when he lost it and he's terrified that if she leaves, she'll never come back and they'll never find each other again.

But he says nothing.

 

"She's gone." Xander had probably said those same words before – several times – but that didn't stop him from saying them again.

Amazingly, Anya didn't chide him. Instead she stayed nestled in the crook of his arm. "I know." Her voice was soft and gentle in a way it only was when they were alone together, when she was willing to let go and be human – completely and utterly human. Looking back, he knew it was during the very first moment like this that he fell in love with her…and that she had loved him before that.

"Did I…was it okay to let her go like this? To just send her off with Spike in some rental car?"

"That Willow had to pay for. I can't believe they made Willow pay for the car. It's bad enough that she's being packed off to a bunch of people who don't even like her, but…" This time, Anya stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I just… No, I don't think it was the right thing. But it's not as if Buffy was interested in my opinion." She looked up into his eyes. "Or yours. I know what you're thinking, but when Buffy has an idea… I mean it's not like she respects… You know what I mean, right?" She tried to dull the blow at the end, but Xander knew exactly what she meant, and he knew she was right.

That was the hard part.

 

_Buffy sets the phone back in the cradle. It's just as well, she supposes, that it was Wesley she spoke to and not Angel. How could she talk to Angel after that…thing she'd just done with Spike? And anyway, it's harder to talk to Angel every time they do end up in contact. They have less and less to say to each other and it's harder to remember that he's the same Angel that…_

No, what they have is forever and true even if they can't actually have it anymore and she's just confused right now, that's all. And anyway, he isn't what she should be thinking about. She needs to focus on Willow. Because Willow is in trouble; Willow is in pain…

Willow ripped her out of Heaven.

That has nothing to do with this and what Buffy's setting in motion isn't some sort of punishment for what happened to Dawn either. Because Willow's sorry, and she means it, and she's trying so hard to do without the one thing that…

Buffy loves Willow. And _that's_ what this is about – loving Willow enough to do whatever it takes to get her better; even if it means putting up with Wesley's disdainful attitude; even if it means admitting defeat; even if it means doing without Willow.

She loves Willow and this is what is best for her. It is.

 

"I don't see why Willow's going to Los Angeles." Dawn was petulant; Buffy wasn't quite sure why.

"I thought you were still mad at her."

"I am, but…"

"So this is about you wanting to make her do your homework for you or something to pay you back?" The look on Dawn's face told Buffy she'd hit the bullseye. "Look," she said, sitting down and pulling Dawn down on the couch beside her. "I know you're mad at her, and…and, you have a right to be."

"I'm gonna be stuck with this stupid sling thing forever," Dawn interrupted.

"Like I said, you have a right to be angry. But, Dawn, she's sick, okay? It's not like she meant to hurt you. The magic was just too strong for her and she forgot who she is, she forgot the people she loves, she forgot…"

"Tara. She forgot Tara."

"No…and I think maybe forgot was the wrong word. She lost sight of things, that's all. And that's why she's going away. So she can get better and she can see again."

"Because it's so much easier to see when you're surrounded by smog?"

"No. Because it's so much easier to learn how to resist temptation when it's not all around you every day." Truer words, she was sure, had never been spoken. Her own itch throbbed painfully, knowing that the way to relieve it would be back soon…so soon.

Dawn grumbled wordlessly and Buffy stroked the head that now lay against her shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, you'll see," she said, wondering if she was talking to Dawn or to herself. "It's gonna be okay."

 

The Toyota Rent-a-Wreck pulled to a stop in front of the Hyperion Hotel. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. "We're here, Red," Spike said, reaching out and shaking Willow gently to wake her up. "Time to check into rehab."

 

Tbc…


	2. Chapter One

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter One)

 

Angel had a son, a son Darla had staked herself to save.

It was something Spike didn't think he could wrap his head around, even now, even after having had a few days to get used to it, even after he and Red had risked their lives – and thrown her precious magic-sobriety out the window – to protect the little brat.

Of course, the boy sure had needed protection. Who knew that many demons wanted to get their hands on a mewling infant? While it had happened, and Spike wasn't the only one who had the battle scars to prove it, he found it hard to believe there was so much fuss over that baby. Over a century as a demon and he'd never been in a fight like that one – never – and frankly, it made no sense. Connor looked and smelled and seemed in every way like any other human brat – of course, both parents _were_ vampires. But hell, the little bugger's face didn't even change. You'd think there'd at least be fangs. And the kid was nowhere near ugly enough to be related to Peaches…or Darla, for that matter. Self-sacrifice notwithstanding, Spike remembered her cruelty and jealousy too well to think of her as anything but the ugliest bitch in Hell's creation. Hopefully she'd stay dust this time.

"Thanks for staying." The voice – and the words – startled him out of his thoughts. He'd never in all his days heard thanks from Angel.

The sound of his own voice surprised Angel. Spike may have earned it, but gratitude still came hard. History…it was funny that it always bled into the present. For vampires, the past was never the past; it just turned into baggage you carried right along with you – baggage that had a nasty habit of opening like some jack-in-the-box without any warning, not even a tune to say 'pop goes the weasel'.

That reminded him – he was never buying one of those for Connor.

Spike stared for a minute before he shrugged – not like he was going to take this 'thank you' bilge seriously. Angel was just deranged from new fatherhood and the recent demon attack. The new attitude wouldn't last. "More exciting than anything back in Sunnydale. Besides, now that Red's turned in that pathetic rental car, kinda stuck here."

"She turned it in? When?"

"Just before that nonsense all happened. Cost her money, and with it sitting here idle…us being all occupied with trying to stop the invading hordes…not much point in her running up that bill, now was there?"

Angel just nodded and left the room – pretty much what Spike had expected really. So why did he feel a twinge of…_something_? That bloody chip was making him soft, electrical impulses turning his brain into mush; that had to be it. Still, he found himself wondering why Angel hadn't asked about getting that car back so his one-time 'boy' could head for Sunnydale.

 

Out in the hall, Angel stopped for a moment to collect himself. He had a son to see to – there wasn't time for…this: the sense of skewed nostalgia he felt with Spike and Willow around. There wasn't time for the guilt, either. He felt it anyway, though.

Willow had risked everything by using magic to protect his son and to send Holtz…wherever she'd sent him. One minute the man had been there and the next…gone. The look of shock and pain on his face as he faded away told Angel that Holtz wasn't vanishing on his own power even before he'd turned and almost _seen_ the crackle of magic around Willow. She'd saved his son, she'd saved him, she'd saved them all. Not just for now, but… A part of him almost died as he realized it had never occurred to him to ask Buffy for help – and he wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

What he did know was that not one word of what had happened would get back to Sunnydale.

 

She was sitting on her bed, wondering if she shouldn't pack her things, when she heard the knock, but Willow didn't even have a chance to say "Come in" as she stood up before Spike opened the door and strode inside. "Hey." He was starting to act like…like the friends she used to have back in Sunnydale. The friends she'd never have again if they knew what had happened here, what she'd done, how she'd sent a man to another dimension…without even knowing if he'd survive the trip.

"What's wrong?" Spike asked. He could smell the tears, see the sticky traces on her cheeks.

"Nothing." That irritated him, but for some reason, he didn't snap at her. Maybe it was that softening of the brain he'd posited earlier. Or maybe it was just that he was damn grateful for the floating thing she'd done that had lifted him clear out of the path of a flaming arrow in the nick of time. Yeah, guess he owed her for that one.

"Now we both know that's a lie, so why don't we just sit down and you can tell me what's botherin' you." He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. This wouldn't be the first time they'd sat together on a bed, now would it? Funny that it would be the first time _he_ consoled _her_, though.

His voice – it sounded almost like he cared. Willow fought the urge to believe him, but somehow she still found herself sitting next to him. "I'm a junkie…and I'm…I don't know," she said softly, wondering if the reason the words came so readily was because she knew it was the fastest road to the inevitable – reminding him of how worthless she was and how much she didn't deserve his concern, if he even felt any. "I'm a magic junkie and I hurt people and there's no hope." Seconds passed, stretching impossibly, but Spike didn't move.

Tears and helplessness – Spike supposed they'd always drawn him in, as both man and demon, though in vastly different ways. Now, sitting here, watching Red tear herself into pieces despite having saved the baby and…well…all of them, really, he figured those tears were washing the last of his resentment away. By rights, he shouldn't have held on to any at all by now. Sure, when Holtz and the rest of the cast of characters whose names Spike wasn't going to bother keeping track of had attacked, everyone else had run about with weapons, but really, the witch probably could have fought the whole battle by herself and won. It was so hard to believe that this shaking slip of a girl had been the magical powerhouse who saved the day, but maybe part of what made it so hard was the fact that she didn't believe it either.

Willow kept waiting, but Spike didn't go anywhere. Maybe he wanted to gloat, or read her the riot act, or blackmail her with threats to tell Buffy and Xander and…Tara just how horrible she was. Such a worthless junkie that she hadn't even lasted a week without falling – no _jumping_ – off the wagon.

Why had she given in so easily? Spike and Angel were there; everyone had weapons; they were all experienced at fighting demons; they would have done just fine without her. But no – big bad Willow just had to show off her mojo, had to put on a performance and pretend that she was special and better than she really was. She was a pathetic attention whore, that's what she was, and she was weak – weak, weak, weak. Never in a million years was she going to be able to kick the magic. Never in a million years would she be able to go home. Never in a million years could she atone for what she'd done to that man, Holtz. After all, if killing demons with magic was wrong – and it was, she knew it was- then how much worse had it been to harm a human being?

As strange as it was for him, Spike decided to hand out some comfort…honest comfort. The 'no ulterior motive' and 'no shagging' sort that was so very different from what he had lately offered Buffy. "You're not, you know. Without hope, I mean. It's not like we didn't need ya. One of those bastards would have got the brat for sure if you hadn't brought out your big bag of tricks. And Holtz? I can't believe you're worried about what you did to that bastard. He'd have done worse to you. Hell, he'd have done it and _enjoyed_ it."

"You're just saying that." Now that was gratitude for you. Here he goes and makes nice and she throws it back in his teeth.

"No, I'm not." He did his best not to sound angry with her, though he was and he wasn't quite sure why. "I know we've had our differences in the past." Well that was a polite way to put it. "But I was right glad you were there, you know. And in case you've forgotten, that Holtz you're so worried about nearly ended Angel's unlife. Without you and that magic you seem to think you need to kick…"

"Think? I almost killed Dawn!" She didn't want to talk about Holtz. It was too terrifying…the way he'd looked right at her as he'd been swallowed by some other world.

"But you didn't, and you're sorry."

Willow nodded vigorously before her shoulders slumped again and her face fell. "Tara left me. She thinks I'm dangerous and evil and…and she's right."

And now the root cause was unearthed. "You think Glinda knows anything about danger or evil? That dim chit thought she was a demon. If she honestly thought _she_ was evil, then she doesn't know evil from the hole in her arse. Which means her opinion is worth exactly nothing."

"I love her, Spike. She's my girl." The weight of the world was in those words and it broke her. Even though Spike had just insulted the dearest, most perfect girl in the whole world, Willow found herself leaning against him as she began to sob.

Awkwardly and without intent, Spike put his arm around Willow. Hell, he knew what it was like to love someone who had the wrong ideas about everything and looked down their nose at you, didn't he? The torch he was carrying for the Slayer damn near scorched his hand most days, but he never even thought to lay it down.

The door opened without warning and they both started. "Willow, I needed to ask you about that decryption program and…" Fred's eyes shot wide as she noticed Willow wasn't alone. "Oh gosh. I'm sorry. I'll just…we can talk about this later." And with that, she darted out of the room.

"What was that about?" Willow asked, unsure of exactly what had just gone on or why Fred had run off like that.

Spike, on the other hand, knew enough to know exactly what was up with Fred. She was all about the numbers and the science that one. Oh yeah. Her logical brain had seen two reasonably attractive (bloody gorgeous in his case) people on a bed together with their arms around each other and she seemed to have come to a very sensible conclusion - a conclusion that might just bear some thinking about. Because mistakes could always be turned to your advantage if you knew just how to use them.

 

Angel almost knocked Fred down as she ran into him rushing down the stairs. "What's wrong?" What could have happened? Everyone had been fine just a few minutes ago. Had it been only a few minutes? He already noticed that he lost track of time when he was with his son. But still, wouldn't someone have found him if…

"No, nothin's wrong. I just… I guess I was trying to give them some privacy and I just kept on hurrying, that's all."

Fred's face was flushed and her expression sheepish, but Angel was focused instead on her words. "Give _who_ some privacy?"

"Willow and….Spike. They were…talking. I mean, yeah, they were talkin' and I interrupted and I wanted to let them keep talking so I gave them some privacy." She caught her breath and then said, "I just wanna go put together all the stuff I need Willow to check on later." Before Angel could even comment, she was gone.

Fred was fast, he'd give her that.

For a moment, though, he was bothered by what she said. Perhaps not so much what she said as how she said it. Her flustered demeanour added subtext to her explanation. Had she walked in on…?

No, of course she hadn't. That was silly, because Willow was…well…_gay_ (though Angel had to admit that was an odd thing to learn after seeing her so seemingly happy with Oz) and Spike, well…Spike favoured a more vivid kind of beauty. Not that Willow wasn't attractive. Frankly, when he'd seen her shining with power he'd thought she was stunning. But still – no, she wasn't Spike's type.

Fred was odd. She was always a bit odd. After all those isolated years in Pylea, who could fault her? But the fact remained that she _was_ odd and that was all the explanation needed for her manner. He decided to belatedly follow Fred down to the office. Just because Holtz was gone, that didn't mean there wasn't work to do.

 

"Spike, that's…" Willow sat and stared, dumbfounded. First, at the idea that Fred might have drawn the wrong conclusion, but second and most importantly at Spike's suggestion that she somehow use that misperception to make Tara jealous and…

The horrible thing was that she was very nearly tempted. Spike's arm around her tonight had only underscored how much she missed the soft, warm arms of the woman she loved. Waking up next to Tara; the feel of her hair and the smell of her shampoo; the cute noises she made when… She missed it all – the sex stuff and the not-sex stuff and the everything, because that's what Tara was – Tara was her everything.

Only one thing stopped her from saying yes, and that something was her tempter. Spike wasn't known for altruism, and really, despite the events of the past few days and the bond forged by battle, they weren't exactly best friends. So why was he suddenly so eager to play Cupid?

"What do you get out of this?"

The question stopped him short. Despite her emotional state, Red was sharp, much sharper than he'd expected. He wondered why he _hadn't_ expected it, however. It seemed he made a habit of underestimating the girl; even after last night, when she'd incinerated demons and sent Holtz hell knew where without so much as touching him, his mind persisted in seeing her as someone gullible and barely above pathetic. Maybe he needed to stop looking into her eyes – because that hapless geek was the girl she saw in the mirror and the reflection was caught like a photograph in each eyeball.

"I've got my reasons." She said nothing, just stared with those eyes that begged him to paint over what was there. So he decided to give her a gift; he'd never know why and never wanted to know, but he gave it all the same. "Buffy."

One word, all Spike offered as his explanation was that one word, but it might as well have been an encyclopedia. More than anyone, at least as far as she knew, she'd seen that Spike's feelings for Buffy were something more than a crush, but she was stunned by the sudden awareness of just how deep and profound those feelings ran. This was every bit as true a passion as what Spike had once felt for Drusilla – why else would he lower himself to consider such a desperate and hopeless stratagem?

Her heart, so painfully cracked and fragile, came closer than ever to breaking completely as she realized she wasn't the only one aching with love and loneliness and despair. "Okay," she said softly, even as she knew this would never work and would only serve to intensify their agony at some future date when it all came to nothing. "What exactly do we do?"

 

Tbc…


	3. Chapter Two

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Two)

 

"Pet, if you're gonna stay in the game without magic, you're gonna have to learn to fight." Frankly, Spike was amazed at how little Red knew about hand to hand combat or weapons. No wonder the chit got so hooked on using spells. Didn't have any other way to defend herself, now did she? The Watcher hadn't had to leave town to abandon her – he'd never been there at all.

He didn't allow himself to think about the fact that Rupert Giles wasn't the only one who could have and should have taught the girl how to take care of herself.

"Have I mentioned that I would have flunked Phys Ed if I hadn't ghostwritten an article for a fitness magazine for the coach?" Willow tried to be lighthearted and joke about it, but the truth was that she was ashamed of her own ineptitude. One more screw-up to add to a list as long as the road between here and home; one more screw-up that meant there was more wrong with her than her weakness and addiction.

"Piffle. You're more fit than ya think. We've just gotta teach you what to do with your body, that's all." The expression on Spike's face suddenly changed. A bit of a smirk appeared and an aura of flirtation. Guess they weren't alone anymore. Willow willed herself not to startle when Spike put his hand on her shoulder in a familiar way just before their visitor came into the room.

"Hey, Angel," she offered as Spike withdrew his hand in a perfect simulacrum of conscious guilt.

The sound of voices had drawn him here and Angel was glad that it had. Something about Spike's attentions to Willow in the last two days – it just didn't seem right. He knew he was probably mistaken, just as he was sure Fred had been, but it was still worth keeping an eye on all the same. The last thing Willow needed was Spike pestering her with unwanted advances.

"Peaches," Spike greeted him with typical disdain. "Just trying to teach Red here a thing or two about fighting."

Oddly, considering it was Spike's idea, Angel found himself thinking that it made a lot of sense. What he wondered about was why she'd never learned before now. Of course, that reminded him of something – he needed to have a talk with her. While Wesley had told him that Buffy felt Willow needed to be here to deal with some problem she supposedly had with magic, he wanted to hear from Willow just why she felt it imperative to give it up. From where Angel stood, it was a good thing she had the power she had; without it, he might not have a son.

"Can't I just stand on the sidelines the way I used to?" Willow asked. She really wasn't looking forward to this. "I am perfectly okay with going back to being research gal." That was a lie, but she wanted it to be true, wanted so badly to embrace the life fate had laid out for her, the life she'd tried to escape with spells, the life that had almost robbed Dawn of hers.

"Nonsense. 'Bout time you stopped depending on the others to protect you, I'd say." Spike didn't mention Giles and his failure to suggest that same thing. No point, really. The chit still held tight to her misplaced hero worship. Hell, she probably blamed herself for his leaving town. That wouldn't be a surprise seeing as how she blamed herself for damn near everything.

"I have to agree, Willow. I don't understand why no one bothered to train you before this. Even with…" Angel stopped himself right before mentioning magic. "I mean, it's never a bad thing to know how to defend yourself."

Spike snickered behind his hand. Nice tact there, Poof. Still, he had to admit that he enjoyed the fact that his grand-sire was forced to concede that he'd come up with a brilliant idea.

And he just came up with an even better one.

"Tell you what. Why don't Angelus and I demonstrate a couple of simple moves for you and then you and I can try them, okay?" He couldn't resist needling Angel. "I'll be the big, bad vampire. And Peaches? You can be the poor, defenseless human."

"Wrong, boy," Angel nearly growled. "I'm the vampire." There was no chance that he was giving up rank, even if it was just a training demonstration. He'd sired the one who'd sired Spike and it was about time to get back the respect he was due.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the idea that there might be some other reason for his need to assert dominance formed as well. He flashed back to the sight of Willow, crackling with power, conquering Holtz with an ease that made his demon roar with envy. But the thought slipped away so fast he couldn't hold onto it. It might never have existed at all.

"Are you afraid I'll see how much of a poof you are?"

Angel chuckled; it was a sound that came from the demon, not the man. "Not a bit, Spike. It's just that you have so much more practice being helpless against me. It'll make for a better demonstration."

Willow wished she could laugh. The posturing should have been humourous, shouldn't it? But it wasn't. There was history behind it; history and pain and ties that bound these two in a way she had never known before. It made her ache, but she wasn't sure why (or perhaps she knew and just couldn't bear to think of it).

From somewhere inside of herself, she pulled out the girl she used to be and tried to smooth things over between the two men. "Spike, if you show me the moves you want to teach me, it will be a lot easier when we do this ourselves." She remembered their plan and gave him a short burst of the gaze she'd once sincerely offered Oz.

He smiled back at her. It was a beguiling smile, free of sarcasm or cruelty, and she wondered if he'd ever looked that way at Drusilla. "Anything for you, pet." It turned back into his usual snarky expression almost immediately. "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

If Spike had to play this role, he was damn sure gonna have fun with it. He began a rather broad burlesque. "Oh my," he said in a melodramatic falsetto. "I'm lost in the middle of the cemetery without a souled poof in sight. Whatever will I do?" He fluttered his eyelashes, then held the back of his hand to his head in an extravagant, silent-movie gesture. "I hope there aren't any demons about."

Angel rolled his eyes at Spike's antics. The boy never took anything seriously. Well, if he was expecting Angel to take the same ridiculous tone, he was sorely mistaken. Training Willow was important. He didn't want the girl who'd defended his son so valiantly to ever be left helpless.

Without warning, he grabbed Spike from behind.

The game was over before it began. While Spike had every intention of making this at least a partially useful demonstration, it all flew out the window at the feel of Angel's arm around his neck. It was as if they'd gone back in time – the old days again with games played for stakes of blood and pain and… Spike didn't let himself think. Even as the memories washed over him, he did his best not to register that they were there.

So he fought – not as a human with the tricks a human might use to get the drop on a creature of superior strength, but as one demon against another, winner take all.

The hair caught in his hand was stiff with bleach and product, but to Angel's fingers it felt brown and soft and he half-expected to see it curl around his fingers. He'd show the boy that nothing had changed. Angel was still his sire, and Spike, for all his airs, was still William –the William who never stopped trying to best him, the same William who was eternally condemned to be brought to heel. And with an audience, an audience whose respect Angel was determined to command? The breaking would be the swifter and more decisive.

Another blow from Spike's fist, but Angel caught it, then lifted him and hurled him halfway across the room.

He should have known this would happen, that no fight with Spike could ever be play or half-measure. Somewhere, he'd lost where this had started, and his soul sat quietly in a corner, allowing the demon to do its work. This was war.

The fight had begun so suddenly and Willow was stunned by what she saw. It didn't take much time for her to figure out that Spike wasn't showing her what he expected her to be able to do. No, what was going on between him and Angel was something personal and primal and…strange. It was a kind of violence she didn't understand and she felt helpless before it, not because she was worried that it would touch her, but maybe because she knew it existed in a world she could never enter. She was all alone, observing this brutal duel from behind a thick pane of one-way glass.

More blows fell and both combatants wore the faces of their demons, but what terrified her was how this had turned into a lesson she had never signed up for – a class that was taking her to places even Buffy had never been. With all her heart, she wanted – no _needed_ – to get back on solid, familiar ground. "Hey," she called out, hoping she was wearing her Resolve Face. "I thought this was supposed to be about teaching _me_ to fight."

Angel had him pinned to the floor, his strength sending a current into Spike's limbs, stirring sensations he had thought long gone and wished still were, when Willow's voice blessedly brought them both out of the haze of battle. Angel got up first, but Spike angrily ignored the hand the smug bastard offered him and got up on his own power.

Why the hell had he ever suggested this bloody stupid demonstration. Like Darla, there were things you just didn't want resurrected. And this? Well whatever it was he was feeling right now was something confusing and he had more than enough on his plate, thank you very much, what with trying to make Buffy realize he was her one and only. Peaches was a memory, and Buffy's memory at that; that was all he was, all Spike would allow him to be.

But before Spike could say anything cutting and get things set right, someone else walked into the room.

It was a pity Willow had insisted the fight end when it did, but Angel was pretty sure she interrupted them to be kind and to spare Spike from further humiliation. It had to have been obvious who was the inevitable victor. He was feeling almost jubilant when Fred walked in and he favored her with a smile. "What is it?"

"Sorry to," she looked around the room, obviously noticing the disarray, "disturb you, but I was looking for Willow." Angel watched calmly as Fred's wide eyes took in a broken chair before lighting on Willow. "Oh, there you are. There's someone on the phone for you. He said his name was Xander."

"Xander?" Willow asked, her chest tightening. Was something wrong? He couldn't – wouldn't – just be calling to talk, would he? "You guys okay if I take this?" She was worried. If she left the room, would the fight start again? They nodded and Willow decided she had to take them at their word, even if that word was only a gesture and she departed with Fred.

"What was going on in there?" Fred asked the moment they were out of the room.

"They were just demonstrating some fighting techniques for me. I need to learn how to defend myself."

Fred stared for a moment, disconcertingly shrewd and disbelieving, but she said nothing, simply turned and headed in the other direction rather than follow Willow into the office. Willow wasn't at all sure where she stood with the young woman. Fred's sweet exterior wasn't exactly the whole story.

At least, though, she was giving Willow some privacy to talk to Xander, despite the fact that Willow wasn't certain she was ready to talk to him. She was going to have to lie, at least by omission, and it hurt already.

Still, she picked up the phone, holding the receiver as if it were some potentially dangerous animal. "Hey," she said, trying hard to sound casual.

"Hey," he answered. Was it her imagination or was he trying even harder than she was?

As much as he'd hated the seemingly endless wait for Willow to finally get on the phone, the sound of her voice almost froze him. Xander had known that he missed her, but somehow, it was harder now – hearing her on the phone, realizing that a short walk wouldn't take him to see her, hating himself for allowing Buffy to send her away like some leper – wait a minute, did they send lepers away anymore? Willow would know, but he couldn't ask her, could he? "How are you?" he asked, struggling to find something to say, which made no sense since there were so many things he wanted to say to her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. He realized with a startling sort of insight that she thought there had to be an ulterior motive for his call. Xander felt the words like a blow. What had happened to them? How had they gotten here?

"I just…I just wanted to talk to you, that's all." His throat tightened and he fought not to cry.

Willow was silent for what could have been a few seconds or a few hours for all she knew. Xander's words were the last thing she expected to hear and she had no idea what to say to him. She felt something and it scared her – hope, after all, had been stored in a box with so many terrible things.

With a tongue heavy and unsure, she lied, "That's…I'm glad you called."

 

"Wonder what Chubs wants to talk to her about," Spike said, even as he boggled at the fact he was making conversation with Angel.

Angel simply shrugged, refusing to react or opine. He assumed the boy was checking up on her, spying, and he hoped Willow had the good sense not to tell him anything. Not that Angel was worried about his own secrets. If he trusted in one thing, it was Willow's honour and he knew she'd never tell her friends – tell _Buffy_ – about Connor without express permission. He only hoped she treated herself with the same delicacy.

"They probably can't remember how to turn on the bloody computer," Spike offered, his nerves making him answer his own question. He just hoped she was sticking to their plan and not saying anything to the whelp about their supposedly blossoming romance. The key was to let third parties spill the beans. With any luck, Fred had made a pointed remark or two, though he doubted that. It would probably take more time – and frankly, his money was on the cheerleader to open her trap first.

Spike might be right about the reason for Xander's call, though for Willow's sake Angel hoped there was some friendlier purpose behind it. It had to hurt, being forced out of town by the people you loved most. What he hoped the call was not about was Willow returning to Sunnydale.

After all this time, after everything she'd done for him, he barely knew her. That needed to change. Angel was beginning to realize that Willow Rosenberg was an amazing woman. It was high time that they became friends. For that to happen, she needed to stay here.

Now he was wound up. "I'm gonna go check on Connor." Without another word or a look back, Angel headed out the door and up to his son's room.

That was typical, wasn't it? Angelus had the attention span of a gnat; always lighting upon something new and shiny which tempted him away. Spike almost pitied the newborn brat. How long before Daddy forgot about him? Treated him like those canaries of Dru's?

He kicked at the pieces of the broken chair and then stormed back to his room. There was whiskey there and Spike needed a drink.

 

Tbc…


	4. Chapter Three

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Three)

 

"So what did Willow have to say?" Buffy asked Xander, trying to be casual, which shouldn't have been tough in her own kitchen. Her eyes wanted to focus on the fridge or the toaster, but she did her best to keep them on her friend. He'd know something was up if she couldn't look at him.

She hated herself. The question she really wanted answered was 'when was Spike coming back?' and that was wrong in so many ways that she couldn't even count them. What had she become? When had her priorities gotten so screwed up? Willow was her best friend – she loved her, she did – and yet, more than _her_ return, Buffy found herself aching for a _thing_ she didn't even like.

But that didn't change the fact that she burned with the need to know why Spike was still in L.A. and not back here where he…no, he didn't belong, would _never_ belong. Get a grip. If Willow could admit she had a problem and even agree to leave town in order to deal with it, then surely Buffy could use Spike's absence to deal with her _own_ addiction, not that it was actually that pressing of an issue, or even an addiction at all, in fact.

No, it was just…it had been awhile since she'd had _any_ sex, let alone sex with a guy who could handle a Slayer at full throttle. That was it – that had to be it. She was horny and he'd been there. This was not an addiction and she'd be over it any day now. She didn't need Spike; she didn't _want_ Spike.

Somehow, though, she'd gotten lost in her thoughts and she'd managed to miss every word Xander had just said.

The look on Buffy's face – Xander hated himself for thinking this, but he would swear she wasn't paying attention to anything he was saying. And while, yeah, that would sting no matter what, this was about Willow and Buffy should care. Shouldn't she? Didn't she?

"Earth to Buffy," he said with a grin, playing the role he found way too comfortable. Someday, he was going to put the court jester costume away. But that day wasn't today.

"Sorry. I guess I was thinking about Willow and…" She gave him that rueful yet winsome 'Buffy' smile, the one that always served as a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card. That was another thing that wasn't changing today, but it should, and Xander knew it.

"She just said that she's staying clean, helping out in the office, keeping herself busy." That wasn't exactly true, and it wasn't even what Xander had said before, but it was what he knew Buffy wanted to hear.

There would be a time – not anytime soon, but the day would come – when he would realize that he had learned a lot, too much, about the game by standing on the sidelines.

"That's good," Buffy replied, the words as meaningless as random sounds. She tried to be cool and offhand as she posed the question she couldn't stop herself from asking. "Did she say anything about Spike?"

"I didn't ask. She didn't say. Frankly, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet without him around. And the idea that he's driving Angel nuts? Bonus."

Buffy didn't speak for a moment; searching for the right thing to say was harder than it should have been. "Isn't it about time you stopped hating Angel?"

Xander looked at her with his 'are you kidding?' face. That expression had once been so familiar and it made her ache for the old days, the days when it was the three of them against the world – best friends forever. The Willow-missage she'd been, well, _missing_ was suddenly there. "I want her to come home, too, Xander. You know that, right? If I didn't think this was the only way…" Her voice broke as she closed her eyes for a moment. _I will not cry. I will not cry._ "But she'll lick this thing. She will. And then she'll be right back here where she belongs."

Buffy believed that; she did. And as she pulled Xander into a hug that felt more like what it should be than anything had since she'd returned, she thought maybe _everything_ would be back to what it should be someday soon.

 

Angel knocked on Willow's door. The call from Xander had to have affected her and this seemed like a good time for him to start being the friend he wanted to be.

"Come in," he heard her say, so he opened the door and walked into her room.

While he might have expected her to be a little emotional, he wasn't prepared for the tear-stained face he saw. "Are you okay?" he asked. It was a foolish question; of course she wasn't okay. He hated himself more when he saw her paste on a smile. The last thing he wanted to do was prompt her to cover up her real feelings, but he knew she thought that's what was best – because she was sure that he didn't really care about her pain.

"I'm fine," she said, lying bravely.

He'd intended to thank her for all she'd done, to tell her how grateful he was to her for saving his son. But with an insight he wished he had more often, he realized that now would be the wrong time. If he was going to build a friendship with her, a real one, he couldn't have her believe that the only reason he was there was because he felt like he owed her something.

Instead, he sat down on her bed and said, "No, you're not."

If he could have said anything more unsettling, it might have been something about losing his soul, but barring that, this was about as difficult as Willow figured conversation could get. "I'm okay, really. See?" she said, pointing to her painted-on grin. "This is me being fine." That might have worked better if she wasn't sure he could hear the nasal whine that spoke of recent tears under her words.

"You don't have to pretend."

Yeah right. Sure thing. Because hey, she and Angel had been buds forever, Oh wait, they hadn't. She wasn't sure she understood what Angel was doing, why he was going through the motions this way. You couldn't just dangle something like that in front of someone. Was Angel as much of a sadist as his demon or something? Willow was tired and weak and terrified that the craving for magic would come back any minute; she missed home and Xander and Buffy, and oh god the agony of that empty place where Tara was supposed to be right beside her.

Of course she had to pretend.

"I'm not pretending."

Angel had a choice right now: he could back down, accept her words as truth, or he could push, and risk angering her. Something told him to take the latter road. "You are, Willow, and you don't have to. Not with me."

"Why not?"

He'd been right. Because at least what he'd finally gotten from her was honesty. This wasn't how he'd envisioned their 'getting to know you' talk, but maybe it was all the better to plunge into the deep end and prove himself right away. "Because I want to be your friend. Let me prove that to you."

What was Willow supposed to say to that? She felt as if, through this whole encounter, she had been walking on a tightrope in high heels. If he'd said he _was_ her friend…but no, he said he _wanted_ to be, and that was such a different thing altogether. He'd made an offer of effort and earning and…

"Look, we can talk about anything you like, and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. All I want you to know is that you don't have to lie to me either. Okay?"

Her heel slipped and her balance was gone; Willow could feel herself falling, hands reaching out too late to try and grab the rope. But before she hit the ground, she was caught.

It took time for her to recognize the hiccupping sobs as her own, to register that she was being held, and when she did, she was being guided to the bed by Angel. He didn't say a word; somehow that was comforting.

"Thank you." The words were almost whispered and despite being commonplace, right now they were anything but. Angel heard so much more than the perfunctory in their soft depths.

"You're welcome." He told her he wouldn't push, and to him it was a promise. Friends kept promises.

Willow sat silent for a time as tears continued to roll down her cheeks, waiting for Angel to ask questions. The questions never came. And somehow, despite the echoes of times past when other voices had beckoned and then left before she'd even finished saying the words they'd offered to listen to, belief began to take hold (she called it belief because the word 'trust' was too terrifying).

"I can't go home," she said softly. "I can never go home." There was no clock, but she could hear the seconds tick by all the same. Angel didn't argue with her; didn't tell her that she was wrong. Should she bless him for his honesty or hate him for…his honesty?

"Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer. I'm just asking." Angel said after what seemed even to him like an eternity. Her eyes were wide and liquid as she nodded. "What happened? Why do you think you have to give up magic?" Okay, that was two questions, but he hoped she'd forgive the accretion.

Hadn't Buffy told him? Oh, she forgot – Buffy hadn't spoken to Angel. That had been Wesley, who'd told her that little fact in practically the only conversation they'd had since she arrived. Guess it wasn't too surprising, though, that he wanted nothing to do with her. It wasn't like they'd ever been friends. But it _was_ surprising that he never said anything to Angel.

"I'm a junkie," she said. The revulsion she expected to see on Angel's face wasn't there yet. It looked like she'd have to say more to lose this shiny new 'belief' before she got attached. "I was looking for a fix from my magic dealer and things went wrong and…and I almost got Dawn killed."

If Angel was supposed to understand things any better because of this explanation, something must have been lost along the way, because he was almost scratching his head in bewilderment. Willow had power of her own. Why had she ever felt the need to go to a dealer? Unless she'd lost her center and been using her power frivolously, but that wasn't Willow…was it? And besides, she clearly hadn't lost her way completely because she'd just saved them all from a demon attack and her power had stayed well under her command.

There would be no more chances to ask questions for now, however.

A sharp rat-a-tat on the door before it was opened announced that they had company. "Red, how was the phone call from Xander?" Spike asked as he entered. Great, just who Angel wanted to see.

Spike figured he couldn't possibly have picked a better moment. While he'd intended to talk to her about her conversation with Chubs anyway, no harm in waiting until they had an audience and it could be turned to his – well _their_ – advantage, now was there? "Didn't know you were chatting with Angel. Sorry." He let a tiny hint of jealousy colour his expression for a second or two.

"No, it's okay." Willow found herself almost smiling. Spike's presence reminded her that there might be a thin ray of hope after all – their plan. No, she didn't really believe it would work, but she wanted to believe it would and that was at least something; it gave her a reason to keep trying.

It shouldn't bother Angel that Willow's smile was closer to genuine for Spike than it was for him. After all, she knew him better, had spent much more time with him, and that was all Angel's fault. But it did bother him and that wasn't a good thing. He needed to leave before Spike figured out he had a weakness and then figured out a way to exploit it.

"I really need to get back to the office. I've got work to do." He stood up, smooth and casual without a trace of awkwardness. "If you need me, you know where to find me." That was said meaningfully, eyes focused right on Willow's. And this time Angel was the one who got the smile that was almost the real thing.

"Thanks, Angel." Willow wondered why she said it, except she was supposed to, or why she smiled at him, but she was so confused by everything that had just happened between them that she had no idea how she felt at all. Spike's presence grounded her and she was glad of it. His kind of honesty was straightforward and easy to read, definitely a blessing in a life turned madly upside-down.

Angel smiled back at Willow before turning and nodding at the party-crasher. "Spike." Time to leave. So he did, and with just short of too much alacrity. It crossed his mind as he left that Spike had been supposed to turn right around and return to Sunnydale, But even now, it never occurred to Angel to ask him to go.

"So, pet," Spike said once the door had closed and Angel's footsteps had disappeared from his hearing. "What was going on with the Great Poof?"

"He just wanted to know why I have to give up magic. Wesley never got around to telling him." That didn't come as a shock to Spike, but when he thought about it, he wondered how he'd tumbled to the barely perceptible rift in the group. He'd been off his game for so long it was amazing to him how close to the surface his demonic instincts actually were. When was the last time he'd read people the way he was reading them now?

If he owed his proximity to Angel for this, he might have to hate the bastard even more.

 

The office wasn't empty when Angel entered and he was glad of that, because the person there was the one he most wanted to see. He could have asked other questions, better ones, been more of a friend to Willow if only… "Wesley, is there a reason you didn't share what Buffy told you about Willow?" If he'd been guessing when he asked the question, the expression on the man's face when he answered turned theory to cold, hard fact.

"I… We all were so busy with Darla and then what happened with Connor and… I suppose I believed she'd told you herself by now. I apologize."

A part of Angel wanted to push, wanted to start an argument, but he didn't. Now was not the time. The group needed to stay united. Connor was a target, would remain a target, perhaps for all of his life. Acting out because of petty grievances would just have to fall by the wayside. So again there was a nod before Angel turned and left a room.

 

Tara knocked on the door to Buffy's house. It used to sort of be her house, didn't it? Once upon a time she and Willow had shared a room here and been happy. Those days seemed as far away as a fairy tale – as far away as Willow.

"Hey, Dawn." She smiled and tried to be cheerful as the young girl stood in the doorway, clearly so happy to see her. Dawn was precious to her and the last thing Tara wanted was for her to feel responsible for any of the sorrow in Tara's heart. "Is Buffy here?"

"Nope. She's at work. But I'm here." Dawn's whole face was taken over by a toothy grin; she grabbed Tara by the hand and almost dragged her into the house. "Hey, guys, can we let Tara join the game now or do we have to start over?" That answered one question. At least Buffy hadn't left Dawn all alone. Being all alone really sucked. "We're playing Monopoly," Dawn explained as she kept hold of Tara's hand and pulled her through the foyer and the living room to the table where Xander and Anya were sitting around a game board laden with houses and hotels.

"Hi," she said, her voice sounding oddly out of place to her own ears. Nothing more than how she felt right now spoke of just how disconnected she was from these people with Willow gone. They'd risked their lives together and she felt as if she barely knew them. It would be different if Willow were here; everything would be different if Willow were here.

"Have you…?" Tara haltingly asked when Xander acknowledged her greeting with a gesture and a half-smile.

"Xander called Willow today and they talked for twenty minutes," Anya said, staring coldly at Tara.

"How…how is she?"

"She's hangin' in there. You know our Will. She's keeping busy, keeping her mind off, you know, magic-type things, she's…" Xander tried, but he couldn't stop his voice from breaking. He was pretty sure it was unfair of him, but a part of him was angry at Tara. If she'd just stuck by Willow, his best friend would still be here. She'd never have gotten so addicted if she hadn't been alone. Bad things only happened to Willow when she was alone. He tried not to think about the fact that he hadn't been there either. Oh sure, he'd seen things, but he'd stood on the sidelines and waited for someone else to do something about them.

He sucked.

Everyone was quiet, even Anya, each one waiting for the other one to say something.

The one who finally did was Dawn. "Buffy says Willow's gonna be better in no time. She says that Angel knows people who can help Willow and any day now she'll be home. And that makes sense, you know, because Spike's still there. I mean, there's no way Spike would still be there if Willow wasn't going to be coming right home."

It was a good argument, and if it wouldn't stand up to intense scrutiny, it wasn't as if Xander was going to subject it to any.

Neither was Tara.

"So, do we have to start the game over or can Tara just join in?" Dawn asked again. It was a silly question. Anya had two hotels on Park Place - no way was she going to give those up. Tara sat down at the table and selected a game piece. It didn't matter that she was at a disadvantage; she was getting used to losing.

 

Tbc…


	5. Chapter Four

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Four)

 

"When did you say this demon was supposed to make his grand entrance?" Spike groused. "Because it seems like we've been here for hours and the only demon around is me." That last was a deliberate gibe at Angel.

The 'hours' Spike was going on about were, in actuality, only about twenty minutes. "Be patient, boy," Angel answered, the slight occlusion of his jaw the only evidence that Spike's taunt had gotten to him. "Tuvash said he had a meeting set up for 9:30 and it's only five past."

What the hell were they doing here anyway? That's what Spike wanted to know. It was a bush league job; getting some low rent demon gang to stop running a protection racket by having a 'chat' with their erstwhile leader. Hell, _Percy_ could probably have managed this one, if the research Fred had done on the L'vacs was anything to go by (though Spike found himself wishing they'd had Willow run the search for information instead). Why the hell bring in the big guns?

Of course, asking Angel questions was always a ridiculous waste of time. Spike didn't bother. Instead, he just continued to complain. "Can't even smoke in here. "

At that moment, a noise and a new scent alerted Angel to the fact that they had company – and the sight of their target seconds later told him that both Tuvash and Fred had left out some important details. "Did you know that this guy was seven feet tall?" Angel stage-whispered to Spike.

It wasn't, however, the size of the demon that really created a problem. No, the problem was the fact that, contrary to expectations, he hadn't come alone. A quick head count had told Angel there were now five of them.

"Mithra vin dahah!" the largest one yelled and Spike didn't need to understand the words to know that they didn't mean 'sorry for the misunderstanding, we won't be troubling you any further.' Thank hell both he and Angel were armed.

"Alright then," Spike said as he hoisted the axe he'd brought with him. "Let's get this show on the road." He swung on the beat of the last two words, and he caught one of the muscle types square in the side. Would have been great if that blow had done more than anger the lumbering git.

 

Much to his surprise, Angel was actually concerned for Spike when the blow he landed against the L'vac seemed to accomplish nothing more than pissing it off. No time to think about that, however, not when a second L'vac looked poised to do some real damage.

Without a word, Angel dashed to where Spike was holding the creature off and knocked him out of the way of a blow from what looked to be a rather large flail wielded by yet another one of the creatures.

What the bloody…? One minute he'd been doing a damn fine job of fighting off that damned L'vac and the next thing you know, he was on the ground, pinned by the body of his brooding bastard of a sire and…

Oh. The whiz of a flail over the both of them explained it all.

In spite of everything – his love for Buffy, his hatred of Angel – the fact that Angel had his back, the familiarity of the position in which he now found himself…his body responded.

Angel registered Spike's reaction – it would have been hard to miss the familiar feel of Spike's hardness against his thigh – but he pushed it to the back of his mind, getting up and resuming the fight. This wasn't something he was interested in thinking about; not now, and maybe not ever, though knowing himself as he did, he was sure it would come back to haunt him.

He grabbed his own axe and swung it in a smooth, high arc. Oh. Good news. Fred had been right about one thing: decapitation worked like a charm on these guys.

"Aim for the head!" he yelled as Spike picked up his own axe and did just that. Another one down. Just three more to go. This 'meeting' with the L'vacs wasn't going to be so difficult after all.

Other things, however…

 

"I'm sorry," Willow said softly as she walked into Connor's nursery. Lorne was cradling the baby, singing to him in a voice so low Willow could scarcely hear it.

He turned at the sound of her voice. "What are you sorry for, witchie-poo?"

Willow winced at the nickname, but he didn't seem to notice and Willow made no verbal objection. "About your club, Caritas. I'm sorry you lost it."

One eyebrow raised, but aside from that, Lorne didn't comment. It wasn't as if this girl had to sing a note for him to read her like a library full of tragic tales. He wished he couldn't. Not for the first time, he wondered how the purest souls always seemed to wear sorrow like that ubiquitous duster of Spike's. "Thanks," he said, because that was the word she needed to hear.

"How is he?" Willow almost never spoke Connor's name, fearing she'd somehow taint it by touching it with a tongue too accustomed to working spells.

"Just peachy," Lorne lifted the bundle in his arms and held him out to her. "Would you like to…?"

No, she couldn't touch the baby. If her tongue could harm him – and she was sure it could – how much more dangerous were her hands? "I'm not much good with kids," she offered as an excuse.

Lorne didn't push; Willow was grateful for that. She left as quietly as she had come, wondering why she'd entered the room at all.

As he watched her leave, Lorne began singing again to Connor. It was a happy song, because that was what _Lorne_ needed to hear.

 

Willow wandered through the hotel now, itchy and restless, as if she were looking for something. Funny thing about that was that she had no idea what she was looking for. It was only when she thought about magic again that she realized what it was.

Withdrawal – the withdrawal she wasn't going through even though she hadn't done a spell since she'd sent Holtz hurtling into another dimension.

How could that be?

It had to be some sort of residual high she was still feeling keeping it at bay, right? Any day, any hour, any _minute_, the shakes would come; the cold and the nausea and the ache that whistled through her bones like the wind. She would go back to her room and wait. It would be here soon.

 

Spike was unusually silent as Angel drove the both of them home. It was frankly disturbing. Spike was normally giddy and prone to talking a mile a minute after a night of killing – the closest thing Angel had ever seen was someone high on cocaine or amphetamines. Not tonight, though; tonight Spike was quiet and sullen and moody, staring out the window of the car and not offering a word to fill the emptiness.

"You did a good job back there," Angel said, throwing sounds at the target like darts and hoping they hit the bulls-eye.

"Yeah" was all Spike had to say in return.

Angel gave up.

The car stayed quiet, and that was a good thing. Peaches had finally shut his stupid gob. For a moment Spike had been terrified that there was gonna be some 'rah-rah' speech about how he was part of the team now. He didn't want to be on anyone's bloody team, thank you very much – not the Scoobies and sure as hell not this Apple Dumpling Gang his grand-sire had cobbled together.

And that bit of hard he'd gotten when Angel was on top of him didn't mean a damn thing.

When they got back to the hotel, Spike needed to talk to Willow; see if there was some way this plan of theirs could be kicked into high gear. The sooner he had the Slayer begging for a taste again, the better.

 

Willow was propped up uncomfortably on the bed as she nearly dozed off waiting for the withdrawal to destroy her fragile peace when a knock at the door roused her. "Spike?" she asked.

The door opened and it wasn't who she'd thought (hoped) it would be. "I'm sorry," Wesley said, his voice reserved and low, a different kind of British from Spike, so very different. "I wished to speak with you, but if this is a bad time…"

"No, it's okay." It wasn't, but she swung her legs off the bed where she'd been anticipating the pain. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"I… I wanted to offer you my apology. I should have said something to Angel – I should have said something right away, in fact."

"It's okay," she lied again.

"No, it isn't." You could have knocked Willow down with a feather when Wesley said that. She was wary now, waiting to see what trap was about to be sprung with his next words. "This… We're not in Sunnydale anymore."

That was supposed to be an explanation, and oddly, when Willow thought about it, it was. It also told her why Wesley was having this conversation with her late at night. Fatigue made his inhibitions lose their stranglehold. Maybe alcohol had played a role as well.

"No, we're not," she said softly. "Everything's different now."

Perhaps they'd have managed to start a conversation a few (or many) minutes later, but it wasn't to be.

Spike heard the sound of Percy's voice before he even opened Willow's door. Thank hell for small favours. Now _this_ was a way to get the ball rolling. He worked himself up into his customary post-battle state and burst through Willow's door.

"Hail the conquering hero, pet," he crowed, acting as if he had no idea there was anyone in the room with her as he pulled her to her feet and then spun her around. "Chopped the heads off three of the stupid buggers all by myself." He turned and feigned discomfiture as he pretended to notice Wesley for the first time. "Sorry. Didn't know you had company."

"That's quite all right," Wesley replied. "Willow and I had just finished." He assessed the pair, though he kept his expression neutral and his eyes unfocused. Enough time spent with a vampire, you learned the language they read and you did your best to keep from printing words on the page. "Good night." Of course he was addressing Willow – he had no regard for Spike – but the words could have been meant for both. With that, he left, carefully thinking about what he'd just witnessed, wondering if it was something he ought to discuss with Angel.

When the door closed, Spike's grin changed; it became calculated and demonic. "Bet Percy's gone off to tell Peaches that the Big Bad Wolf is about to eat Little Red Riding Hood all up." It was all he could do not to rub his hands together in glee.

Willow smiled back at him. It was a very different smile from his. "That's good, right?" It was nice to see Spike happy. Someone should be and she figured Spike deserved it more than she did.

"The sooner everyone gets all riled up about our sweet romance, the sooner word gets back to your pals and Glinda and Buffy come crawling to us." Spike was careful to mention Willow's pet witch first.

It was strange, though. She smiled again, but it felt…off. The words were there but not the music. "What's wrong, Red? Did the second-string Watcher give you grief or something?" Oddly, he found himself feeling just a bit of genuine concern. Guess he and the chit were friends now or something. Not hard to care about someone who asked for nothing and gave everything. Too bad that was never the type he fell for. Glinda was one lucky bitch, though she didn't have the sense to know it. Red ought to make her crawl over hot coals on her hands and knees before she took her back.

"No, it's just…"

"It's just…" Spike prompted, as if he actually wanted her to finish the sentence, as if what was wrong with her actually mattered to him. It hurt in the sharp, painful way that remembering the way Tara used to look at her did.

"I keep waiting for the withdrawal and… I don't feel it. It's been days and I don't feel it."

It was funny, hilarious even, and really, with anyone else in the role of narrator, this was a tale that would split Spike's sides, but not now, not with Willow. What kind of a girl was sad and worried because she wasn't doubled over in agony?

Part of it, he supposed, was that he was oddly curious himself. She'd whipped out a real bag of tricks there, more than he'd ever seen her use in Sunnydale, and if the rules were as simple as magic = hocus pocus heroin, then Willow should be vomiting up everything she'd eaten since last year into the institutional-white commode in the adjoining bath; she should be shaking and crying and desperate for a fix. In fact, all of that should have started happening at least a day ago.

"I don't know," he said, following her lead and sitting on the edge of the bed just after she did.

Those words were comforting, though that didn't really make much sense, did it? Maybe it was just that it was a relief to have someone admit they just didn't know – no pretending that they either had the answers or knew that someone else would. Spike's honesty was as close to a blessing as she felt likely to ever receive. It was simply there and real and commonplace, though it wasn't actually common at all.

Spike put his arm around her, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. He flashed back to a time when his head had rested on hers. Funny the way things twisted – and the way they didn't. Because just like that long-ago day in the burned out warehouse, he had the urge to talk about his feelings. If anyone could make sense of the twisted mess that was…

"So…you think this plan's going to work soon?" she asked.

The moment was gone. "Yeah. Sure thing. 'S my plan. It's bound to work."

He gave her a cheeky grin and she gazed at him with eyes more innocent than that brat Angel called his only child. Yes sir, Willow had given him sound advice, whether she knew it or not. Keep your mind on the plan and don't get distracted. Soon – so soon – he'd be back on the Hellmouth with Buffy in his bed. He wouldn't even remember the abdominal twitch he'd had for his bastard of a souled sire.

Willow just stayed quiet, letting Spike have the last word. She wouldn't miss this, she told herself, when they were home. She would have Tara and Spike would have Buffy and there'd be no need for a chill arm around her or someone to make it okay for some things to not be okay at all. Everything would be wonderful.

 

Angel walked even more stealthily than was his wont into Connor's nursery. There was something about the sight of his child that still seemed so miraculous to him, that made him fear doing something to wake himself up from the dream he must be having.

If he'd expected the vision of his sleeping son to clear his head, however, he was sadly mistaken. All it did was remind him of how complicated things really were.

Spike's reaction to him tonight…sure, it could probably be explained as just Spike's normal response to the prospect of bloodshed and some sort of instinctive reaction to the presence of family, but that didn't mean it was something he could ignore.

Then there was Willow, who needed help and succor and protection even as she carried within her a power the likes of which Angel had never seen. She was in pain and she was in trouble and Angel found himself compelled to do everything in his power to heal her, a purity of intent he could not with any claim to sanity ascribe to Spike. What was his demon's proudest creation looking for in Willow? What game was Spike playing with her?

That was something he needed to know, and it was a compelling reason to keep the boy here under a watchful eye rather than sending him back to use his craft and guile to manipulate the others into summoning Willow back long before she was ready – when she might yet be an easy mark for whatever twisted con game Spike was working.

With a last look at Connor, Angel left the nursery. His thoughts remained in a tumult and he needed to be alone where he could deal with them without distraction.

 

Tbc…


	6. Chapter Five

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Five)

 

Strangely, in all the time Willow had been here, she and Cordelia had somehow not spoken. Oh sure, they'd said things like 'hello' or even 'want some coffee?', but they hadn't had an actual conversation since Willow's arrival.

She found herself wondering if that might not be the best thing as far as the both of them were concerned. There remained a frostiness between them that spoke of grudges still carried and of the truth that, despite the tentative accord they'd once had, they had never actually been friends. They probably never would be either.

Still, that didn't mean Willow wouldn't try to at least thaw things out a bit. Now that things had settled down, it seemed impossible for them to peacefully coexist without _some_ conversation, though hopefully Spike's plan would work and she'd be home with Tara soon.

With some trepidation, Willow made her way into the office. She'd hoped Fred would be there, too – she'd have offered a nice buffer – but sadly, it was only Cordelia Willow found, sitting at the desk and filing her nails. "Hi," she said, announcing her presence and affecting a cheerful grin. "What'cha doin'?"

Oh great. Willow. Just who Cordelia _didn't_ want to see. "Nothing much," she replied, biting her tongue to keep herself from saying 'duh' and giving her impeccable nails a sharp glance. It wasn't as if Willow cared much about maintaining her appearance, so she'd never appreciate the importance of lovely hands.

All right, maybe that last thought was catty, but something about Willow… If Cordelia were honest with herself, she'd say she hated her. Twice, when she had something special, something real, Willow stepped in and wrecked it. Xander might have been a loser, but he'd been the first person who'd seen her as something more than a beautiful trophy and they'd been…well, they'd been _something_ until Willow had come along and ruined everything.

Then there were her visions. Thanks to them, and to working with Angel, Cordelia had become somebody, somebody important who helped save the world and who even got respect for more than her great looks and fashion sense. Until now. Now all anyone cared about was Willow's flashy abracadabra stuff – the stuff, by the way, which she was supposedly here to quit using and which Cordelia would swear she waited until everyone was in mortal danger before unleashing. Show-off. But it sure did the trick. Gunn was practically in awe of her and Angel… No, it didn't matter. Cordelia did _not_ care about Angel's stupid Willow-obsession.

Willow stood, looking at the ground or around the office for a few long moments, and she fidgeted. It was silly, but she was afraid – afraid of Cordelia's biting tongue and the scorn she readily expressed for any sort of weakness. Any minute now, Willow expected a cutting remark about her addiction.

It didn't come, but Cordelia did finally say something sharp. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about or did you just want to stand there all day?"

What Willow wanted to do was just turn and run, but instead, she stood her ground and said, "I just thought we should talk or something. I mean, I'm staying here for awhile, so I figured we should try and… I don't know, get along, maybe?"

Goody. Willow Rosenberg wanted to be her friend. Cordelia's day just could not get any worse.

What bothered her most was the fact that Willow was oozing with sincerity – those annoying puppy-eyes and everything that went with them. And yeah, maybe she really _was_ sincere, but that didn't make Cordelia like her any better. In fact, it might have made her like Willow less. Because the girl never seemed to mean to hurt anyone and yet… She hurt people, Cordelia-shaped people in particular, and it wasn't okay; it was never going to be okay.

Did she mention that owing Willow her life made her grind her teeth until her jaw ached?

"I think we're already getting along just fine. You can stay in your room, 'recover from your addiction', and do whatever it is you're doing with Spike that's making him way overstay his welcome, and I'll do my job and help Angel save lives. I think staying out of each other's way qualifies as getting along."

There it was; the jab at Willow's problem with magic. Oh well. It was nowhere near as brutal as she'd feared and at least now it wasn't hanging over her head like the Sword of Damocles. She was about to open her mouth and remind Cordelia that she was gay – if Cordelia even knew in the first place – but she remembered the plan in time. Instead she asked, "What makes you think I'm doing anything with Spike?" in a way that she hoped reeked of guilt.

Providence then decided to smile on Willow's cause even more brightly; Spike entered the room. "Hello, pet," he offered, with what Willow could have sworn was a shy, coy expression. What? She wanted to giggle at his overacting, but she managed to maintain her composure. She just hoped his melodrama didn't ruin everything.

Spike let the gears in his head turn and followed his instincts. He'd been outside the room for a short while and he'd heard enough of the conversation to spot this as a perfect opportunity to further his plan. Also, he had to admit that while of course he didn't give a damn about Cordelia's sniping about his being unwelcome, he felt a bit badly for Willow. He didn't consider himself the sentimental type, but he'd already accepted the fact that he'd forged a bit of a friendship with the girl and listening to the harsh way she'd been dressed down bothered him. What was the cheerleader's problem with her anyway? Was this still that Harris thing? Because in Spike's opinion, both girls had been battier than Dru to have a yen for the whelp.

Still, maybe that weakness offered a way to give the cheerleader her own back. "Have you called Anya?" he asked Willow in the most guileless tone he could manage." "Because I know she wanted to talk wedding plans with you. Makes sense, you being Xander's best friend and all." It almost hurt to use the boy's first name, but it was worth it when he saw the bitch wince. From a tight-arse like her, that was a sign that he'd struck a nerve.

Cordelia was surprised, but she wasn't hurt. She wasn't. She had moved on from Xander long ago. Okay, maybe there was some pain at hearing this news, but it wasn't because she still had feelings for him. It was…

It wasn't fair. Xander was a loser and a jerk and he'd cheated on her and what happened to him? He found true love and got to live happily ever after, at least until the divorce. But Cordelia, who'd been cheated _on_ and who had sacrificed and fought and suffered horrible migraines that _no one_ should endure just to help save lives? She was alone – all alone, especially since Angel was so caught up in…but that wasn't even relevant since it wasn't as if she gave a damn about the stupid vampire anyway. It just wasn't fair, that was all. She was loveable, too, wasn't she?

From where Cordelia was sitting, Willow was doing just fine with her little problem, so why didn't she just go home?

There was a shine to Cordelia's eyes that filled Willow with remorse, though she wasn't sure entirely for what. No, they didn't like each other, and Cordelia's hate ran deeper than Willow had realized, but she couldn't seem to hate her back. She didn't even try. "We should probably let Cordelia get back to work," Willow said at last, her tongue stumbling as she narrowly avoided using the too familiar 'Cordy'.

"Yeah, that would be great," Cordelia snapped, "Seeing as how some of us actually have jobs we have to do to earn a living."

Spike was tempted to inform the stupid bint that there were other, better-paying jobs for which she was infinitely more qualified – jobs involving a pole and regular waxing – but Willow's hand squeezing his arm persuaded him to hold his tongue. She was soft; too soft. They needed to have a talk about that.

All of a sudden he understood why the goodliest of goody-two-shoes had turned to magic, and it wasn't because she was looking for thrills.

Taking his cues from her, he let Willow lead him out of the office without either saying another word. "So," he said when they were halfway to her room. "What made you decide to have a chat with the airhead?"

What was she supposed to say in answer to that? It wasn't as if Willow was even sure. "I don't know," she finally offered. "I guess I just… I don't know."

 

Eyes and mind refocused entirely on the task of shaping each perfect nail, Cordelia was startled out of the void she was doing everything she could to shut herself off in by the ringing of the phone. "Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless," she said in a voice that practically ordered the caller to hang up without a word.

This caller, however, wasn't following orders. "Hi. C-can I speak to Willow, please?"

One more reminder that the whole world revolved around Willow. Wasn't this peachy? Well, it wasn't as if Cordelia Chase was some errand girl. She wasn't going to go running after her. "She's off somewhere with her boyfriend right now, but I'll be sure to let her know you called." With that, Cordelia hung up.

Oh darn, she'd forgotten to get the girl's name. Gee. Too bad. Cordelia turned her attention back to her nails. If only she could shape a life without Willow in it as easily.

 

Spike followed Willow into her room. Might as well stick around and talk. There was fuck-all to do in this place right now. You'd think Peaches would spring for bloody cable. "So, pet, how's the abstinence thing going today?" Not that he didn't already have some idea – she still hadn't gotten those shakes she'd been anticipating – but for all he knew she was craving a spell something awful.

"It's… It's still easier than it should be. Way too easy."

He felt a sudden need to distance himself from her - maybe it was the way she just kept beating herself up, looking for punishment. With some effort, he forced a less sympathetic reaction than he'd had the last time she'd talked to him about the withdrawal she wasn't enduring.

Willow was startled by Spike's laughter. "What's so funny?"

"You. No offense, but you've got to be kidding me. Here you are having miraculously made it through the worst part of kicking the habit with barely a twitch and you're acting as if it's some terrible thing. I thought we got through all the angst the other day."

Willow could see his point, actually, and she started to laugh, too. The laughter built and bubbled up inside of her and then spilled out in waves that felt…good – until they didn't anymore. The mirth turned to hysteria and then to tears and she couldn't have found a reason for it if doing so would make Tara appear in her bed right now.

The distance, such as it was, was gone without ever having really been there. Spike put his arms around her, not knowing what else to do. Willow was inscrutable to him. Sure, he'd spent years with Dru, and she was one for the incomprehensible display, but there wasn't any sense to her and therefore no impulse to try to find it. Willow, on the other hand… There was a logic here somewhere and he couldn't help wishing he understood just what was tying her in knots.

He had the horrible feeling it was the same thing that secretly terrified _him_ \- being alone, alone forever. No one knew better than he did the importance of suffering enough, of debasing yourself enough – if you didn't get that right…

His arms stayed where they were, but he didn't say a word. Not like any that he had would be comforting; not to either of them.

 

"She hung…hung up on me." Tara said softly to herself, trying to make sense of what had just happened even as she tried _not_ to think of what else the rude woman on the other end of the phone had said.

That had to be Cordelia, right? And Willow had told her about Cordelia – how mean she was, the spiteful things she said. It didn't mean anything; it didn't. She'd talk to Willow tomorrow and…

But maybe she shouldn't. Maybe this was the goddess's way of telling her that she shouldn't have called at all; it was too soon. What Willow had done… It wasn't something Tara could just forgive and forget, and calling Willow now might give her the wrong idea, make her think that a week or two without magic would be the ticket to their getting back together, and that just wasn't right.

More than magic had gone wrong between them. Trust had been violated; promises had been broken; Willow had turned into someone Tara didn't even know. That couldn't be fixed in a few days, and she wasn't sure it could be fixed ever.

Did she still love Willow? Yes, and she knew she'd love Willow forever and with all her heart. That was as sure as the sky was blue and that clouds were white. But would she and Willow ever hold hands, share kisses, touch each other…? No, Tara couldn't be sure of that, no matter how much she wanted to be.

She lay down on the bed that she and Willow didn't share. The tears fell and kept on falling. There was no rainbow waiting for her when the rain finally stopped; just more pain.

 

"Has Willow called?" Buffy asked, knowing that Dawn was always iffy about giving messages promptly (or at all).

"No. Duh. You think I wouldn't tell you?"

"Like you told me about the time the water people called? We almost had the water turned off."

"I told you."

"Yeah, after the guy put a notice on the door!"

"Okay, maybe I was a little late telling you about that one, but I would tell you if Willow called, I swear." Dawn meant it, too. She didn't want to admit it, but she missed Willow and wished she _would_ call – or come home, because that would be even better. And she wouldn't even try to make Willow do her homework for her either.

Alright, maybe history, but that was it.

Buffy could feel the itch build again. It was getting worse all the time. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop craving…

Why was Spike staying in L.A.? He and Angel hated each other; he should have been back ages ago. The thought suddenly occurred to her: What if Angel had dusted him? But that was silly, wasn't it? Willow would have called if that had happened.

"Earth to Buffy," Dawn said, noticing that look in her sister's eyes – the one that was there all the time now. It was a look she was starting to hate because it meant Buffy was gone – not gone like dead, but gone all the same, even when she was in the same room. It hurt.

Sometimes Dawn wondered if Buffy wished _she_ had jumped from the tower instead, if she wished Dawn had turned back into a shiny ball of energy and gone away forever.

"I'm here," Buffy said. But Dawn knew she was lying.

 

"All I'm saying is that Willow seems just fine to me. And besides, running away from your problems is a bad thing. I mean, I can see why Buffy would suggest leaving town, seeing as how that's how _she_ deals with things, but that doesn't make it right. How is Willow going to learn how to…?"

"That's enough," Angel interrupted, his voice harder than it had been with Cordelia in a long time. "Willow isn't…" He softened his tone, wondering why he was so angry in the first place. "It's not running away. She just needs to be somewhere safe for awhile. Somewhere she's not being judged. And for as long as she needs it, I'm giving her that place." He didn't remind Cordelia of what Willow had just done for his son – for all of them. It wasn't about that, anyway.

"I just think that she needs to show them that she's all detoxed and reformed and all – which she sure seems to be to me – and she can't do that here."

In a way, he supposed Cordelia had a point. On the surface, Willow seemed fine, at least in terms of any so-called 'addiction'. But she wasn't fine. There was so much more going on than that. Angel only knew bits and pieces of facts about what had brought her to him, but what he could feel, what he could sense – no, this was not something that giving up spells was going to fix. There was damage that ran deep in Willow and he wasn't going to throw her back in with the sharks until he was damn sure she could handle it… until he was damn sure they'd never hurt her again.

"She's staying. For as long as she needs. For as long as she wants. That's it. No more discussion." Angel turned on his heel and left the office.

It was time for him to try to talk to Willow again.

 

Tbc…


	7. Chapter Six

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Six)

 

Angel watched as Spike emerged from Willow's room looking pensive and lost. That was something Angel wondered about, but he didn't have time to worry about the boy's mysterious moods now. No, he was far more concerned with Willow. There was still so much he wanted (needed) to know about what had brought her here – not just to Los Angeles, but to the state she was in.

Spike walked away down the hall in the other direction. Whether he knew Angel was there or not, he said nothing and didn't turn around. Good. Angel wasn't in the mood for trading banter. He went to the door from which Spike had just emerged and knocked.

"Come in," came a listless voice.

"You should always ask who it is," Angel admonished jestingly as he strode into the room. "You never know who might be there."

Willow did her best to smile at Angel. "Yeah, I kinda found that out the hard way when I accidentally invited Spike into my dorm room." She wasn't sure how she felt about that memory. It had been a terrifying encounter at the time.

It seemed to upset Angel and Willow hastened to explain. "He didn't hurt me. It was right after he'd escaped from the Initaitive and he was all un-bite-y thanks to the chip." If she'd thought that would help, she seemed to be wrong. Angel's eyes were focused on the side of her neck. Oh…oh! She'd almost forgotten about that since she could barely see it anymore. "That was Harmony," she said as she touched the barely perceptible scar. "She bit me, but she barely got a drop. It was no big deal. Really. I mean, it was Harmony. I'm amazed she even figured out how to use her fangs. She wasn't exactly an A student." Willow was babbling now; fidgeting, too. It was just so hard to know what to say to Angel.

Angel's demon was restless and he had no idea why; he fought to tamp it down. "I'm glad you weren't hurt." It was a stupid thing to say. If she hadn't been hurt _then_, did it matter? She'd still been hurt. "Is now a good time? To talk, I mean?"

She'd kind of been dreading this, but she was resigned. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He'd already forgotten…

"I meant what I said before. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. It's just… I want to help you." Okay. That was surprising. Angel _had_ remembered; people never seemed to remember the promises they made her – well, except for Tara.

Now was not the time to think about Tara.

She still wasn't sure, but then again, she'd already told him the worst, or part of it, and he didn't seem to hate her. Maybe she could tell him…_something_. She felt as if she owed him at least that much. Call it room and board. "What do you want to know?"

What did he want to know, indeed? Angel could think of dozens of questions without even trying. But the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her off, encourage her to keep up the wall behind which she was hiding. How was he going to manage this? "The magic…how are you handling it? Are you doing okay?"

He wasn't sure if that was the question to ask, but he'd asked it and, much to his relief, she answered with barely any hesitation.

"I'm… It's weird. Before – back in Sunnydale – it was so hard. Even in the car on the way here I was all sick and stuff. But now… It's weird." She was fidgeting again and he fought to keep from smiling. For a few seconds she had looked so much like the girl who'd told him she wasn't supposed to have boys in her room.

Still, she left him with new questions. "What's weird about it?"

What did he mean by that? Hadn't she just explained? She went back over what she'd just said. Okay, maybe he had a point. Coherence never seemed to be her strong suit when talking to Angel. "I'm not sick. And…" She couldn't even believe what she was about to say. It was true, though, so she said it. "I'm not craving magic. Not like before. I mean, sure, I want…but I don't…and I…" She stood there, helpless and tangled in her own words, not sure at all of what she meant or how she felt.

Seconds later, Angel pulled her into his arms. "It's okay." Was it? Willow wasn't sure about that at all.

This was the second time Angel had ever hugged her and both times had been in the last few days. Before this, their only relationship had been the connection they shared with Buffy. Oh, and the soul thing, but it wasn't like Angel even knew she was the one who did it…did he? He'd never said anything, that was for sure, so her best guess was that he didn't have a clue.

He was big, so much bigger than her friends – or her lovers – and that was disconcerting and almost oppressive. She felt small and fragile as he held her close. Funny how magic didn't make her feel powerful at all right now.

Of course, she was being silly. It's not like it was Angel's fault that he was tall and broad-chested.

Holding Willow felt…right, maybe too right, but Angel wasn't going to think about that. What he was going to think about was the fact that she was friendless (not for one moment did he believe Spike actually gave a damn about her) and alone and that was utterly unjust. If anyone deserved friendship and support, it was Willow. She needed him and he was going to be there for her.

Ending their embrace, he wondered what to say next. He wanted so badly to know just what had happened to send her over the edge – how she'd wound up going to a magic dealer. He wanted to know other things, too, personal things, but that was normal, right? They were building a friendship, and friends knew these things about each other. He couldn't bring himself to ask, however, and he simply waited to see if she'd volunteer anything further.

Surprisingly, she did.

"I felt like somebody, you know?" she said softly. "Like I wasn't just Buffy's geek sidekick anymore. I was special and important and I could really do things." She reddened as she spoke, embarrassed at having revealed so much. But it was done now and she couldn't take the words back. Instead she braced herself for the platitudes she knew were coming. They'd probably be the same ones that Buffy had used.

She kept waiting but Angel didn't speak. He simply looked at her with those dark eyes full of sadness and mystery, offering no clue as to what he was thinking. It was unnerving, how unexpected he was. With Spike it was so different – she expected him to be unexpected and that sort of split the difference and made him comfortably predictable…in an unpredictable way, but still… She didn't know Angel well enough to be comfortable with him being surprising.

The right words weren't there, so Angel stayed silent. He didn't think it would mean anything to her if he was to tell her that she was special just as she was. She'd think he was just humouring her – that he was saying that because he felt he owed her for saving his son, for giving him back his soul. He _did_ owe her for those things, but fortune cookie mantras were no way to pay her back, and that gratitude was something separate from what was happening now.

He decided to change the subject. "How is everyone here treating you?"

Willow smiled slightly at that and he mentally patted himself on the back. Good move, m'boy.

"Everyone's been great," she replied, and she was being sincere. Okay, maybe Cordelia hadn't exactly rolled out the Welcome Wagon, but Willow hadn't actually expected her to and she'd been nowhere near as bad as she _could_ have been so…yeah, that qualified as great. "Fred's really nice," she added. "So are Gunn and Lorne. You must really like working with them." She almost winced as she realized she'd left out Wesley and she hastened to mention him. "I bet Wesley's a lot of help, too." Afterthought much? It reminded her sharply of the way she was always tacked on to the end of things. She couldn't stop tears from forming in her eyes.

Angel noticed. "What's wrong?" Things had been going so well. Could this have anything to do with… "Did Cordelia do something?"

She started before saying – too quickly for his liking – "No. What would make you think…?"

"I know you two don't get along. And I know that she can be harsh sometimes, say things without thinking." Cordelia was his seer and a close friend – she'd stood by him loyally for so long – but he was very aware that her relationship with Willow had been contentious in the past and he wouldn't be surprised to hear that old hurts had flared up. "If there was some misunderstanding and she upset you…"

"No. No. We've barely talked to each other. Honest." Okay, part of that was a lie, but it conveyed a larger truth – Cordelia was not the reason she was upset right now.

"You're sure?" Willow replied to the question with a nod she hoped wasn't too vigorous. Her tendency to be defensive often made her look guilty; she knew that well.

Angel was sure she wasn't being completely honest, but he decided to just let the matter drop. They'd made progress today; real progress. Willow had opened up to him; she'd let him past the wall, at least a little bit. He wasn't about to jeopardize that, so he decided to let her be. "I'm gonna go check on Connor." He headed for the door, but before he opened it, he turned to Willow and said, "If you ever need to talk, if you ever need _anything_, I'm right here."

He heard her say "Thank you" as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

There were things he had wanted to ask her, things he still did. He only hoped the time would come someday when he could.

 

"I wish Willow was here," Anya groused. "She's much better on the computer than you are." It was tiresome – all this pretending that they were fine without Willow. Because they weren't and it was high time Buffy admitted it. Plus, Willow had better taste and Anya would much prefer to hear _her_ opinion of the choices she'd made in wedding décor.

"I know that, okay?" If Anya made one more remark… Slaying an _ex_-demon was okay for a Slayer, right? "But right now, I'm what we've got." Buffy wished everyone would just back off. She was doing her best. Warren was a lot more familiar with computers than she was; maybe even more familiar than Willow. She'd like to see Anya or Xander find out anything about him worth knowing online; she wasn't even _thinking_ of trying to hack into his computer.

"All I'm saying is that Willow's been there for over three weeks. She has to be better by now. Xander talked to her and she told him she was doing fine, so…"

"And Willow always admits when she's not okay? Which universe's Willow are you talking about?"

Xander decided it was time to step in before his soon-to-be-wife managed to end his friendship with Buffy. "Guys. Guys. I think we're all just a little on edge after the invisibility thing, okay? Let's just calm down."

Much to his amazement, Anya sat in her seat and didn't answer back. Wow. This could be a first. Maybe Xander had picked up some leftover mojo Willow had left lying around or something.

He'd give it back when she came home. God did he miss her. "Look, why don't I call and talk to someone else there, like Cordelia or something?"

Bye-bye mojo. That was exactly the _wrong_ thing to say. "You are _not_ going to talk to your ex-girlfriend right before our wedding. I'm sure something in one of the wedding books I have says you're not allowed to do that."

"I'll call," Buffy said. She was almost glad for the excuse. Asking about Willow would also allow… She hated herself for even thinking about him, let alone wanting him to come back almost more than she did Willow, but it was there and it was real – one more side-effect of being brought back wrong. "Will that make everyone happy?"

Anya humphed, which was probably as close to a yes as Buffy was going to get. Xander nodded; that, too, was the best she was going to get.

She headed for the door, having intended to call from her home phone, when a voice stopped her. "I thought you were going to call and ask about Willow?" Thanks, Anya.

"I didn't want to run up the phone bill here," Buffy hastily alibied.

"I don't mind." Anya didn't trust Buffy as far as she could throw her. For all she knew, Buffy would lie and say she'd called when she hadn't. Just because Anya couldn't think of a reason why Buffy _wouldn't_ want Willow to come home didn't mean she wasn't suspicious that there was one. After all, Buffy was the only one who wanted to send Willow away in the first place.

Buffy headed back to the counter and the phone, knowing now that asking about Spike had to be done more gingerly than ever. Of course, if Anya was right…if Willow was all better… She dialed Angel's number with a hopeful optimism that shamed her. More of it should be caused by the idea that her best friend might have conquered her addiction. Buffy loved Willow; she did. It was just…

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

"Hey, Cordy." Buffy tried to sound chummy. That was probably stupid considering she and Cordelia had really never been chummy even when they saw each other every day, but oh well. "How are things?"

Was she serious? 'How are things?' Buffy was phonier than ever. Cordelia stopped herself just short of a snide comeback, however. This phone call might be a stroke of luck. Buffy being nice to her could only be happening for one reason – they needed Willow to do something for them. "Things are just fine. In fact…"

Without her even having heard him enter the office, Angel was at the desk snatching the phone right out of her hand.

"Buffy. Is there something you needed to talk to me about?"

He acted as if Cordelia was just some secretary with nothing to say. She didn't feel a pang at that – not at all. Cordelia Chase did not care about Angel one bit.

But she did, and his rudeness hurt. With only a softly-spoken "I'll leave you alone to chat with 'Little Miss Just-Can't-Stay-Dead'" to mark her exit, she left the office as fast as she could while still hanging on to her dignity with both perfectly-manicured hands. If she shed a single tear, she was the only one who would ever know.

Angel? He was the last person Buffy expected to speak to. Conscious guilt made her almost shake. It was only her awareness that she wasn't alone that gave her the strength to maintain her composure. "Hi, Angel." There was still that rush of angst and loss when she heard his voice. Angel was the epitome of a 'what might have been'. If only… "I was just calling to check in, see how Willow's doing." Her tone was the epitome of casual. As much as she wanted to inflate the degree of emergency their current predicament constituted in order to hasten Willow's return – and Spike's – Buffy just couldn't. No matter what, she really _didn't_ want to put herself and her own needs first.

Maybe she _hadn't_ come back all wrong.

Listening to Buffy's studied attempt at unconcern, Angel almost ground his teeth. Who did she think she was fooling? Obviously they had a problem there and they just couldn't handle it without Willow. Well, the way Angel figured it, they could. After all, if it was a _real_ emergency, Buffy would have just called and straight out asked for all the help she could get. They probably wanted Willow's research skills or for her to use the magic they themselves had told her she needed to give up. He wasn't going to let this happen. Willow had come to him looking for a safe place to heal and she still had so much of that to do. It was up to him to make sure she got what she needed.

Angel didn't hate himself enough to even bother about it when he replied, "She's… She doesn't want you guys to know, but...she's shaky. She tries, but most days she can barely come out of her room. It's been hard for her. She hasn't broken down and used magic once, though. We're all proud of her. Wesley's put the word out to his contacts and we're still trying to find an expert to help her. Hopefully we'll hear something soon."

Buffy's heart sank as she heard Angel's words. She wasn't surprised, though. Willow was never one to admit how bad things were, not until it was almost too late. Buffy's mind flew back to Oz's leaving and the 'Will Be Done' spell. Speaking of 'if only's'… If only they'd all learned from that. "Oh," was all she could say for a long moment. "Is there anything…?"

"No. Not really." Angel decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and added, "I'll tell her you called though. That should cheer her up a lot."

Of course, now he couldn't under any circumstances allow… "Thanks for sending Spike here," he said. "We've been having a lot of problems with demon gangs lately and he's been pretty helpful in dealing with them."

Was it terrible that she was pathetically grateful to hear about Spike without having to ask? Of course it would have been better if what she heard implied that Spike was coming home...she meant 'back to Sunnydale.' "Spike? Helpful?" she asked, ever mindful of her audience.

"He's still annoying as hell, but he likes violence and considering how much of it we're having right now…" Angel figured that sounded believable.

"So he's gonna be staying there then?"

"For the time being, yeah. Hey, at least this means he's not your problem for awhile."

"Yeah. That's great. Thanks, Angel." She thought she heard herself say goodbye before she hung up the phone, but she wouldn't bet on it, not at all.

Willow wasn't coming home.

Neither was Spike.

Turning to the expectant faces of Xander and Anya, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Xander was going to take the news about Willow so hard.

 

Spike stood outside the office. 'He's still annoying as hell.' Nice way to start out a spot of eavesdropping, hearing those words. It wasn't as if the context didn't tell him exactly who those words referred to, now was it?

He shouldn't be upset. Not as if he didn't know how the bloody Poof felt about him, after all. Hell, he felt the same and worse in return. So why _was_ he upset?

It was Buffy, of course. Not knowing what she'd said in response. Worrying that she agreed and was glad he was still gone. That was it. That had to be it. He didn't give a rat's arse what Angel thought of him; not a rat's arse.

 

Tbc…


	8. Chapter Seven

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Seven)

 

There wasn't a heaven in any dimension that would admit Spike should he ever be turned to dust, but what did it matter when there was whiskey?

One thing to be grateful for – that liquor store down the street. So bloody easy to steal from that you'd think they didn't care about making a dollar. Bless them for keeping the good stuff near the door.

Spike took a healthy draught from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Annoying'. The word still rang in his ears. Telling Buffy that he was nothing better than a useful pain in the arse. Nice way to show your gratitude there, Peaches. Next time they were out on a case, Spike wasn't so sure he wouldn't just let the demons have at the King of Brood.

Setting the whiskey on his nightstand, he pulled his shirt over his head. Hell, might as well dispense with the trousers, too. No need to worry about being naked when he was all alone. Besides, he needed to relieve some of the tension that was tying him up in knots, whiskey notwithstanding.

He plopped himself down heavily on the bed and stretched out, making himself comfortable. At least the pillows were soft and full, though the mattress was purgatorial. Angel was still a cheap bastard.

That wasn't the one whose image he needed to see, however, so Spike closed his eyes to clear his mind as he reached down and began to slowly stroke his cock. Oh yeah. This was just the ticket.

_"Spike"_

Buffy's voice was a smooth purr in his imagination as he pictured her, naked and beautiful, moonlight making her blonde hair glow, highlighting every contour of that tight, firm body.

_"I want you."_

It was truth, and he knew it, even if this encounter was only in his mind.

His hand kept moving, cock rising, pleasure building. He could almost feel the heat of her surrounding him as she rode him just the way she had that glorious night. That's right, pet. That's the way.

But then the image changed.

_"Have you missed me, m'boy?"_

No, no! This wasn't what he wanted. But he couldn't stop. The pleasure grew even more intense as the image of Angelus swam before the eyes he shut ever tighter in a vain attempt to block it out.

_"That's right, boy. Show me how much ye want me."_

The smooth brogue of the one he'd always considered his true sire. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get the face – the body – of that bastard out of his mind. Spike could see him standing there, cool and casual even as his cock stood erect and ready.

_"Spread yourself for me."_

This time, the voice and the face were Angel's – all those subtle differences that separated the soul from the demon. That should have brought him well out of it. It didn't.

Without conscious thought, Spike did what this phantasm commanded, spreading his legs as if waiting to be mounted. He could _feel_ the burn and stretch of Angel inside him, filling him, thrusting hard, as Spike's hand kept up its work, faster and faster – taking him closer and closer, and then…

He came, and more intensely than he ever had alone. "Angel," he whimpered before he could stop himself.

Bloody hell, he thought as he lay there sticky and drowning in self-hatred. What had happened to him? He loved Buffy. It was the truest passion he'd ever known. He didn't want that bastard; he _couldn't_ want that bastard.

It was the whiskey, right? That was it. That _had_ to be it.

Spike hated Angel.

 

Sitting in the chair near his son's crib, holding the boy, Angel did his best to lose himself in the miracle he was touching and cradling. He couldn't, though.

He'd lied – lied to Buffy, the woman he had once loved more than anything in the world… Wait a minute: _once_ loved? When had it gone from the present to the past tense? How could that have even happened? This was the woman he'd lost his soul over – love like that, it didn't go away…did it?

Obviously it did.

Well, maybe it hadn't so much gone away as changed, turned from a living thing to a faded photograph, but that amounted to the same thing, really. It meant that there was an emptiness where there'd at least once been yearning. What was strange was that he didn't feel empty. That was probably because of Connor.

Softly, so as not to rouse the drowsy baby from his near slumber, Angel began crooning tunelessly: "Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run…"

Lorne halted in the doorway. He made a habit of checking on Connor. There was something soothing about the baby. Maybe because his aura didn't strangle Lorne with pain and sadness. Unfortunately, the father was _not_ like the son. Why, oh why, did he have to be singing?

It was over; Lorne knew that now. The family of choice he'd fantasized he belonged to was splintering and fracturing and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wanted to hate Willow. He couldn't, but he wanted to. If this had only been intentional…if he couldn't almost look into eyes as sad as the end of the world when he saw what was to come.

Three blind mice, and she was the blindest of all.

It was foolish and doomed to failure, but he made an attempt anyway. "She needs to go home."

Angel looked up and saw Lorne standing there. It didn't take a genius to figure out who he meant. "No one else seems to feel that way. Except for Cordelia." He looked at Lorne sharply, wondering if that very seer had a hand in this. He didn't ask, though. No point, really. Lorne would either lie or he wouldn't and Angel probably wouldn't be able to tell either way. Lorne read people; he didn't _get_ read by people.

What was Lorne to say to that? Now was not the time to reveal what he'd seen. Angel would only deny it. And there was no point in going to Spike or Willow either, because they'd do the same. Cute lines about denial being more than a river in Egypt seemed hideously inappropriate, even inside his head. They were an insult to the unfolding misery.

"Her girlfriend…," Lorne began.

"Hasn't called once since Willow got here. Doesn't that tell you anything?" Angel interrupted with growing irritation. Connor stirred and made fussy sounds. "Look," he said, more quietly and calmly. "Now is not the time for this. Willow saved us – all of us – in case you've forgotten. She's going to be here for as long as she needs or wants to be. Okay?"

Lorne sighed, "Sure thing, Angelcakes," and then turned on his heel and departed.

It was times like this when he wished he didn't have his gift at all.

 

There had been a photograph of her and Tara in happier days hidden at the bottom of her suitcase. Willow hadn't taken it out until now. She sat on the bed, cradling the picture in the palms of her hand, staring at it as if, by staring hard enough, she could somehow enter it – could somehow go back to those halcyon days.

It was if she were looking at two strangers, though, and she couldn't become the green-eyed girl with the goofy grin on her face no matter how much magic she used. And somehow, she couldn't find that connection to Tara.

She kept staring, tracing the photographic curve of Tara's cheek with her finger, trying to somehow feel the soft skin it represented. But all she felt was the slickness of the picture.

What she needed right now was someone to talk to; someone who could help her make sense of the decay and the chaos and help her make everything alright in her head again. While Angel had been the one to offer an ear whenever she needed one, it never occurred to Willow to go to him. Instead, she headed out her door and straight for Spike's room.

 

His chest damp and raw from where he'd scrubbed it with a washcloth, Spike stumbled out of the bathroom and back to the bed. He didn't bother putting his clothes back on. Didn't matter, did it? He was alone – all alone. Post-wank whiskey had made him morose and now he was arse-deep in self-pity. It might have been different had his fantasies not turned against him. He'd blamed the drink, but maybe it had been the chip. Bloody Initiative bastards. They bollixed up everything.

He fell back on the bed, head missing the pillows, staring at the ceiling, so lost in his misery that when the knock at the door came, he automatically called out, "Come in."

"Oh my God!" Willow could feel her face turn scarlet the moment she opened the door and saw… But she couldn't stop staring at Spike – naked Spike. Spike was naked. Really, really naked. As in completely naked. "I'm so sorry! I'll just…" She made extravagant hand gestures which were supposed to indicate that she was turning around and leaving but probably just looked like a wounded vulture attempting to fly.

Oh bugger! Of all the people who had to knock on his door right now. "Wait, Red!" he cried as he reached down and grabbed his shirt, using it to cover his private bits as he sat up.

Too late. She was gone.

Spike grabbed the rest of his clothes and hurriedly redressed. He needed to fix this.

 

Willow almost ran back to her room, cheeks still flaming – heck, her whole _body_ still flaming. She couldn't believe she had walked in on…

Inside her room she collapsed into a chair. He'd said "Come in," hadn't he? She'd thought he had, hand on heart. She'd never meant to… Oh Goddess. How would she ever even look him in the face now?

A moment later, she realized she already had the chance to find out. "Red?" came a voice at her door, followed by a knock Willow would swear sounded repentant.

"Come in," she said with some trepidation.

He opened her door and entered. "Darn. Thought you'd return the favour." He was trying for levity, but it seemed to have fallen flat. She was staring at the floor and there wasn't the barest trace of a smile on her face. "Look, about what just happened. I'm…I'm sorry. I've had a bit to drink tonight and when you knocked, I didn't even think. Never meant to embarrass ya."

"Thanks." She decided to try looking at him. It was sort of okay now, seeing as how he was fully-clothed and all, but it was different somehow from before.

He could see the discomfort in her expression and he felt worse than ever. Funny that it took a bit for him to think this might put a crimp in their plans. His first thought had been concern for the state of their friendship. He hated that he'd made her feel so uncomfortable.

"Still friends then, right?"

"Of course," she said, wondering why she felt so strange as she said it.

"At least now you know what Buffy's missing."

"I already knew." He almost hated her for the warmth and sincerity that clung to each word. Not for the first time, he questioned why he couldn't fall for someone like that. "But she'll come to her senses any day now. I know it."

Willow meant every word she'd said, too. Buffy was an idiot if she didn't fall in love with Spike, and not because he had a great body either – though he did, oh did he ever – but because he was caring and kind and…

No, no, no. This wasn't happening. She was gay – completely and utterly gay. Okay yes, there had been Xander and Oz and that crush on Giles, but now, _now_, she was one hundred percent pure lesbian. This was a 'no-clothes fluke' and that was all. She was just wonky from magic addiction and lonely and tired and missing Tara and her mind was all twisted into a pretzel.

All of this would be cured by a good night's sleep. She'd be right as rain (how could you tell if rain was right or wrong?) with some sleep.

"I'm kinda tired right now."

Spike took her words at face value. Her skin was pale again and she seemed to have no problem looking at him. "Get some sleep, pet. See ya tomorrow." He was about to apologize again, but he held his tongue. Knowing her, she'd just get embarrassed all over again at the reminder and that was the last thing he wanted. "G'night," he said with a smile as he exited her room and headed back to his own. Thank whatever gods he'd somehow not made mortal enemies of that he'd managed to set things right.

Tears came unbidden to Willow's eyes once the door closed behind her departing visitor, but she wiped them away and fought back new ones with all her might. She _was_ tired and she did need sleep. Taking a pair of pajamas out of the dresser, she took off the t-shirt and jeans she was wearing, removed her bra, and changed into her sleeping attire. After putting her clothes with the rest of her dirty laundry, she turned off the overhead light and got into bed. Rest would fix everything. Like that very right rain, it would wash away all the confusion in her head. Tomorrow she'd see clearly and be herself again. Tomorrow…

 

No matter how much time he spent with them, Angel could never get used to human hours. Biology, he supposed, wondering if Willow had ever made any serious study of the difference between vampires and the humans they'd once been. He'd never once thought of asking such a question of Fred. Of course, he didn't know her nearly as well.

He was restless and bored and wanted some company. Spike was awake – he was sure of that – but he wasn't interested in a round of insults or in dealing with the issues admittedly raised by Spike's response to him during that battle with the L'vacs. Once upon a time (Once upon a _soul_) he had been Spike's grand-sire – Spike's _true_ sire given Drusilla's incapacity for rearing a childe – but those days were long gone and he felt it was best to ignore any trace of nostalgia in the wayward boy. Soon enough, Spike would get over it. His true affections would always be reserved for Drusilla.

That brought up an important matter – one he needed to discuss with Willow. Despite his earlier hopes that Fred's observations had been wrong or that at the very least, Spike's interest in Willow would be fleeting, it seemed instead that the boy had some sort of agenda where Willow was concerned. Spike was quite obviously flirting with her, paying her attentions the poor girl might easily misconstrue and take far more seriously than they deserved to be. Angel needed to talk with her, be the true friend he had promised her he would, and make her aware as gently and kindly as possible that Spike wasn't someone she could count on in any way.

Altering his course from aimless wandering to heading in the direction of Willow's room, he only hoped she hadn't yet gone to sleep. Back in Sunnydale, he recalled that she'd kept pretty late hours. With any luck, that still held true.

He knocked on her door, trying to strike a balance between loud enough to be heard but not so loud it would wake her if she had indeed gone to bed.

Was that Spike? Willow couldn't think of who else it could be this late at night, though she wondered what he was doing here after she'd already told him she needed rest just a short time ago. "Come in," she said, glad of her modest nightwear as she got out of bed. She supposed this couldn't really be classified as waking her up or anything. She'd only been tossing and turning anyway, due in no small part to the very vampire who was about to reenter and…

"Oh! Angel." This was a surprise.

"Hey," he said, unexpectedly discomfited by her attire; a pair of baggy flannel pajamas and yet somehow they were unsettling. "I was just wondering if you were awake and wanted to talk. Not about anything in particular, just…" Normally, he didn't pay much heed to his awkward grasp of conversational skills, but now – now it bothered him. "Vampire hours. I keep them, but…"

"Everybody else goes to sleep." She finished his sentence for him and stifled a sigh. Sleep was what she wanted, too, but it wasn't coming anytime soon, not with Angel in the mood for company. He was giving her a place to stay, she reminded herself; the least she could do was be friendly.

"They stay up as late as they can, but…yeah, they go to sleep."

He was fidgeting and Willow got the distinct impression, that, disclaimer to the contrary, there really _was_ something he wanted to talk about. "Angel, is there something you wanted to say?"

Was he that obvious? Guess the answer to that was yes. "Actually there is. It's just… I don't want to pry or interfere in your personal life, but…" She looked confused and expectant, but she said nothing. He decided to plunge right in. "It's Spike. I know you two have been spending a lot of time together and… I know what he's like and I would hate to see you get hurt."

Willow bit her tongue just as she was about to deny it. She suddenly realized that – wow – it was working. Their plan was really working. Even Angel thought that she and Spike were…a she and Spike thing. She should be thrilled – she _was_ thrilled…right?

Fighting the urge to shake her head to clear her thoughts, she decided to stick bravely to what she'd pledged to do. Bringing up a brief flash of Spike's nudity to help her achieve the necessary blush – and fighting back the emotional turmoil that ensued – she said, "We're just friends. Honest. Spike's not gonna hurt me."

Angel was about to argue with her and Willow knew she just wasn't up to it right now. She stretched and feigned what she hoped was a credible yawn. "I'm sorry, Angel, but I was kind of in bed when you knocked and…"

"It's okay. You get some rest." There was more going on than fatigue, but Angel knew he wasn't going to score any points with her by forcing his company on her any longer. "Remember what I told you," he said softly as he stood in the doorway. "Good night."

He closed the door behind him and stood for a moment in the hall. Irrationally, he was almost certain that if he'd been Spike, she'd have stayed up to talk to him. Not for one moment did he believe her denial of an other than platonic relationship between herself and Spike. That blush had told him the truth: Willow had feelings for that callow bastard. He clenched his fists as a wave of anger rolled through him.

Angel wasn't jealous; he wasn't. Willow was his friend and he didn't want to see her hurt. That was all. That was absolutely all.

 

Tbc…


	9. Chapter Eight

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eight)

 

"So you want me to call Cordelia, ask her about Willow, and above all _not_ tell Buffy?" As much as she knew it was wrong to keep secrets from her sister, a part of Dawn was excited that Xander trusted her to do this. This was kind of like espionage! Okay, espionage was probably the wrong word, but it was secret agent/superspy kind of stuff; Dawn knew that. "Are you sure she'll talk to me?"

"If there's one thing I'm pretty sure hasn't changed about Cordy, it's that she likes to talk – especially if she doesn't like who she's talking about."

"But we haven't talked in years and…" The next words were spoken haltingly. Dawn hated to think about… "It's not like we ever really _have_ talked to each other." It felt so good when Xander pulled her into a hug.

"You're real, Dawn," Xander whispered against her hair. "You're real and Cordelia really did say you were 'all the fashion victim and none of the homicidal maniac' that Buffy was that day at the mall when you were twelve and you really did throw soda all over her. I remember it. It's real." And it was. Memories were sacred things. Sometimes they were all that remained of someone, like Jesse, whose body wasn't in the coffin buried in Restfield Cemetery. Dawn wasn't any less real than Jesse just because the first day Xander met her had never been anything _but_ a memory.

After another moment, Xander let go. "Didn't Buffy already talk to Angel?" Dawn asked. "Why do you need me to talk to Cordelia?"

As if this needed an explanation. Xander didn't trust Angel as far as he could throw him. When he'd spoken to Willow, she hadn't sounded so incapacitated that she couldn't leave her room. And the girl who answered the phone didn't say anything about seeing if Willow was able to talk; she just went and got her. Something was fishy – bad fishy like the last time his mother had tried to fry some trout. "Look, I know Buffy thinks Angel is this great guy who would never lie to her but…"

"You don't trust him," Dawn finished. "I guess that makes sense." Dawn stood lost in thought for a few seconds before her eyes shot wide. "Oh my God! You don't think something's happened to Willow and Angel's covering it up, do you? What if she's hurt? What if she…?"

Xander put his hand over her mouth. No way was he letting that last word be spoken. Willow wasn't…she just _wasn't_. He'd know if that had happened. He'd have felt his guts being ripped out of him if it had. "I don't think it's anything like that." He _hadn't_ anyway. Now that Dawn had raised those possibilities, he had no idea what he thought. "I just think things aren't the way Deadboy says they are, that's all."

Dawn giggled at Xander's nickname for Angel. She'd never said this to Buffy, but she didn't think much of Angel either. She remembered him as being really broody and boring and she never could understand what Buffy saw in him – and after he lost his soul? Scary!

"Okay. I'll call." Something suddenly occurred to her. "How come you don't call Cordelia yourself?"

Xander hemmed and hawed for a moment, not wanting to admit that he wasn't the dominant partner in his relationship, but finally he had to tell the truth. "Anya ordered me not to speak to her."

Once more, Dawn giggled, but she quickly stifled it, not wanting to hurt Xander's feelings. He was entrusting her with a secret mission and he deserved some respect. Besides, it was so sweet of him to obey Anya even when there was no chance she'd ever find out if he hadn't.

Dawn stepped over to the table where the phone sat looking ominous to eyes now filled with visions of drama and uncovering dark deeds in Los Angeles. Xander recited the number as Dawn punched the keys on the phone.

One ring, two rings, three rings, and then…

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

Yippee! It was Cordelia! Dawn had been terrified that Angel would answer and she'd have to make up some story to get to talk to who she wanted to. "Hi, Cordelia."

Dawn Summers. Boy was Cordelia ever _not_ excited to hear her voice. But there was one good thing about the giddy teen; she got right to the point without even waiting to be asked. "I was wondering… how's Willow doing?" Of course, that was also a bad thing as well.

What Cordelia wanted to do was tell the truth, or at least go get Willow and let Dawn hear for herself that Willow was, at least from Cordelia's perspective, absolutely fine. Unfortunately, doing so…that would be a bad thing to do. As much as she wanted to believe that everything they'd been through together had – as it _should_ have – forged an unbreakable bond between her and Angel, Cordelia Chase was nowhere near that stupid. If Angel was willing to lie to Buffy to keep her here, Willow…meant something to him – something Cordelia hated her for meaning, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

But there wasn't anything she could do except suck it up and do what Angel asked (ordered) her to do – back up his lies. After all, it wouldn't do Cordelia any good to have destroyed her relationship with Angel before he had a chance to come to his senses. "Willow? She's…" She hesitated, wondering what approach to take. Oddly, that in itself seemed to be the right approach.

"Buffy talked to Angel and…"

"Oh. Then I guess he told her that Willow's all junkied-out. Why did you need to ask me about her?"

Dawn almost crumbled. This was exactly what she didn't want to hear, what for sure she didn't want to have to tell Xander. Angel hadn't lied. Willow was in bad shape.

She needed to answer Cordelia though and she tried to sound credible when she said, "I was just kind of hoping, you know, that maybe she'd gotten better. I mean, you hear about it all the time, people being really sick and then the next day, poof, they're all healthy and bouncing around and…"

"Yeah, well, believe me, you'll know when that happens. The minute Willow kicks this stupid addiction thing, she'll be on her way home."

"Is…is Spike there?"

That was almost too much temptation. Oh how Cordelia longed to drop some hints about Sid Not-So-Vicious and his sickening fawning over Willow, but she feared that it, too, would risk Angel's wrath. Instead, she just followed orders and made sure no one spoke to Spike either. "He's pretty much appointed himself Willow's nursemaid, so he's up there holding her hair back, no doubt."

"Oh," Dawn said. Spike's absence was something she felt at least as keenly as Willow's and it hurt that he hadn't come home – or even called. But she supposed if he was busy taking care of Willow, that was kind of a good excuse, right? "Tell him I called, okay? And Willow, too."

"Fine," Cordelia said tersely. "Goodbye." She hung up. Taking deep breaths, she wondered how she'd become this desperate woman. She got out her compact and stared anxiously into its small mirror. The face she saw looked as beautiful as it always did. It just didn't feel like hers anymore. No one who looked like that could be as pathetic as she was right now.

One more reason to hate Willow.

 

Dawn hung up the phone, wondering how much Xander had figured out from her end of the conversation. A lot, if the look on his face told her anything. He looked like someone had run over his dog. Well, he didn't actually have a dog, but if he did, and if it got run over, he'd look like… Focus, Dawn. "Umm… I guess this time Angel was…"

"Telling the truth. Yeah, I got that." She didn't think Xander had ever sounded so sad and lost.

"But he told Buffy that…"

"Experts. Help. Blah-blah-blah. Yeah, Dawn, I know all that, okay?" Xander snapped at her. He just snapped at her. Xander never snapped at her. She'd been close to crying anyway, but this pushed her over the edge.

Xander felt awful the minute the harsh rebuke left his mouth. This wasn't Dawn's fault. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling Dawn into another hug. "I didn't mean to take it out on you." He could feel her forgiveness in the way her arms wrapped around him.

"It's okay."

Xander let go and patted her shoulder. "No, it's not. I mean, I'm upset and I have good reason to be, but there's no good reason for being mean to you. I think there's some saying about shooting someone that fits here."

Dawn giggled, not sure if Xander really didn't know the saying or if he was just pretending not to know, the way he sometimes did. Either way, it was kinda funny and any amount of funny was a good thing right now. "Spike's taking care of her," she said, hoping that would cheer Xander up a little. He might not like Spike, but he didn't hate him as much as he hated Angel.

"Oh goody. I feel so much better knowing that the vampire who tried to kill her twice is playing nursemaid to my best friend."

This time, Dawn burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just…" Dawn struggled to catch her breath. "You and Cordelia said the same thing. I mean about Spike playing nursemaid. It's funny that you guys talk alike."

Xander would have liked to be able to laugh, too, but he couldn't. Nothing seemed funny right now; not talking like Cordelia or Willow being tended by Spike or…anything. Irrationally – at least everyone else would say it was – he blamed Angel. Buffy had said Angel would help Willow. He hadn't. But Xander wasn't foolish enough to think that would make any difference. Willow wasn't coming home.

 

Willow planted her foot the way Spike had shown her and hoped she'd get it right on the first try. Having Spike behind her, holding her close, was creating a whole lot of confusing feelings in a brain still caught up in terrified anxiety waiting for withdrawal that never came. Why, oh why, had she agreed to let him try training her today?

Taking a deep breath, she shifted her weight in the way she thought Spike meant and…

Wow! She'd flipped him over her back!

Her elation was short-lived as she saw him still lying prone on the mat. "Oh Goddess! Spike, did I hurt you?" His eyes stayed closed and he said nothing. Panicked, Willow hurriedly knelt down beside him and shook him gently. "Spike? Spike?"

In a split second, he had her pinned beneath him. "Never let your guard down, pet. Thought you'd have learned by now."

Willow's reaction included the expected surprise but there wasn't nearly as much fear as there should be. Spike could feel the racing of her heart, even scent the adrenaline, but there was also something else, something she shouldn't be feeling at all, not for him.

This was because she'd just seen him naked, wasn't it? There couldn't be anything behind her getting turned on besides the normal hormones a sex-deprived girl would be experiencing.

Oh bugger! There were tears in her eyes and now a fear that had nothing to do with the suddenness of his attack. That meant… "Lesson over," Spike said tersely, as he leapt to his feet. "Next time, remember that demons are always dangerous." That was the last thing he said before he left the room.

So what if he was rude? He was a bad, rude man and it was best for the chit to learn that now. This romance thing was an act, and the sooner she remembered that, the better.

He could hear her start to cry as he walked down the hall; he could feel Peaches nearby as well.

No need to worry about either of those things when there was whiskey waiting for him. Trying not to think about just how much time he was spending at the bottom of a bottle these days, he headed back to his room.

 

Angel stepped cautiously into the training room; the sound of Willow's sobs made it impossible for him to stay away. What the hell had Spike done to her? He watched her for a moment, curled up in a ball on the floor like a sad little girl. It felt like an invasion of her privacy and he decided to alert her to his presence. "Willow."

A soft voice roused her from her crying. She pulled herself up to a seated position, grateful that her visitor was Angel and not someone like Cordelia. "Hey," she said, wiping her eyes and forcing a smile. Probably too late to convince him she was just fine, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

He was having none of it. "What happened?" he asked, considering it a victory over his own anger that he hadn't snapped out a harsh 'What the hell did that bastard do to you?'

"We were just training and I kind of suck, that's all."

If she thought he was going to back off this time and let her get by with a paltry and feeble excuse, she was sorely mistaken. "That's not what this is about." Direct and to the point, though said in a kindly voice. Angel sat down next to her. "Spike said something – or did something." Reaching out, he stroked her face and the tears came again.

Willow didn't want to talk about it; she didn't. But she was tired and overwrought and she'd never been able to resist an offer of friendship at the best of times and so… "I think… I think I might sort of love him and… I'm so stupid." She started sobbing again and Angel pulled her against him, her tears soaking his shirt.

Angel did his best to conceal his surprise at her words, mostly because they didn't make much sense to him. He'd been under the impression that Willow's affections were what Spike was looking to inspire. So what had just happened and why had Spike looked so angry and dour when he walked away? How could he just leave her like this – distraught and heartsick?

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried, the warmth of her skin and her tears both soaking into him. Whatever had driven him to walk out, Spike was a bigger fool than Angel had thought possible. If he had this…

The lightning struck and Angel could almost hear the clap of thunder which accompanied it. Willow wasn't the only one sick with longing in this room. There was now and ever after no chance for him to hide behind the words 'friendship' and 'gratitude' and pretend they had anything to do with why he wanted (needed) Willow here.

Angel loved Willow. There was no 'might' and no 'sort of' about it either, no matter how dearly he wished there was. This fragile, powerful creature held his heart in her hands – all of it. He couldn't stop himself from planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

It was almost comforting, being held like this. For a moment, she could just get lost, the way her whole life was now.

The plan was ruined. Spike would hate her. But she supposed there was nothing she could do about that. It was her fault, of course, but it wasn't intentional. Then again, none of the terrible things she had done were things she had meant to do. No matter what, she seemed to do nothing but cause pain.

Like what she was doing to Tara, even if Tara didn't know. Tara, who was waiting and being patient and who had offered her the hope of a happy reunion if only… Yeah, if only. If only Tara knew that there was so much more wrong with Willow than magic.

It was time to pull herself together. At the very least, she should stop sniffling all over poor Angel, who was being nice enough to put up with her hysterics, even show her some friendly affection. It was more than she deserved. "Thanks," she said, as soon as she got herself under control.

"There's nothing to thank me for." He kept an arm around her, unwilling to lose the contact, as her tears dried coolly on his shirt and skin. He wished he could add 'That's what friends are for', but how could he now?

"Yeah there is. I mean, here you are putting up with all my whining and sniveling and…"

"I'm not putting up with anything." He interrupted, his tone more full of meaning than he'd intended to allow. "I'm right where I want to be." If she looked in his eyes…she'd see…

And it was obvious that she did.

"I…uhh…I should probably go…you know…to my room…wash my face and stuff. I'm all puffy and sniffly and… Yeah. Thanks again, Angel," she stammered and stuttered as she got up quickly and all but ran out of the room.

What had just happened back there? Angel couldn't…he didn't… But what if he did? What had she done this time?

When Willow got back to her room, she didn't bother washing her face. What was the point? She just kept crying. This wasn't happening; it wasn't. She said it to herself over and over. And if she thought there was any way it would work, she'd have cast a spell to make it true.

 

Angel couldn't change direction, even though he thought of turning back with every second step. In a moment, he was at Spike's door. He didn't bother knocking.

"What the hell kind of game are you playing, boy?" The planes of his face shifted slightly as he struggled to hold his demon back.

Spike sat in a chair, legs splayed out before him, already halfway through a second bottle of whiskey. He hadn't expected company, especially not Angel – looking so much like the sire he recalled so vividly that he didn't even bother to lie to himself and pretend that he felt nothing. But Angel wasn't here for him.

"What brings you to my humble abode, Peaches?"

"Willow. What did you do to her?"

He should have known this was about Willow. Poor Willow. But not Spike. Never him. No, never him.

Angel glowered at Spike, waiting for an answer. He was taken aback a bit by just how intoxicated the boy had become in such a short time, though. What could have inspired that? "I'm waiting."

Spike snorted, the alcohol in his borrowed blood opening him in a way he'd despise himself for too soon. "Waiting. Yeah right. That's a laugh. You've never waited, never wanted. That's a privilege reserved for the rest of us."

There was no deciphering Spike's cryptic nonsense. Whiskey seemed to transform him into Drusilla. This was pointless. "We'll have this talk when you're sober, William." But when he turned to leave, Spike's words stopped him.

"That's right, Angelus. Leave. You're good at that. Leave whenever you bloody well feel like it. Never think about the ones you cast aside. Guess I should expect it. Always been second best." Spike wasn't nearly drunk enough not to realize he'd just laid his heart underneath a stake.

Angel whipped around. "You're not second best to _her_, you know." Why he said it, he'd never know. He regretted it immediately.

"And if I could love her back… But I guess you wouldn't have a clue about that, seeing as how you have no problem feeling that way for her."

Spike's words hit Angel like a sudden slap in the face. How did…? Maybe it was obvious. It had to be, didn't it? He needed to do better at concealing his feelings from now on. Willow knew…Spike knew…that was enough – more than enough. He wished neither of them knew.

Turning away again, he opened the door. This time no words held him back. He walked out into the hall. Heading for Connor's room, he instead changed his mind and headed downstairs. His head was spinning with questions about just what had been going on between Spike and Willow that had now gone horribly wrong, questions about how he was supposed to deal with being in love with her, questions about just what Spike felt for him - none of those were questions for which Angel could think of any answers.

Spike had given him a fine idea, he decided. There were decanters full of fine liquor going to waste. Might be a good time to remedy that.

 

Tbc…


	10. Chapter Nine

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Nine)

  
It was time for the usual post-game wrap-up in the Magic Box.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, pulling Tara into a warm and very heartfelt hug. After all, going from murderess to victim of a frame job with just a little bit of magic to reveal the truth was a pretty terrific thing. “You know, those guys weren’t nearly as evil back in high school.”

“Well, you did have to talk Jonathan down from the tower when he was holed up there with a rifle that one time,” Xander interjected.

He had a point, Buffy acknowledged, her thoughts going dark and serious. It seemed as though people changed in the blink of an eye, but maybe they didn’t. Maybe there were always signs you should have seen – moments that were like a preview of coming attractions. Had there been some for Willow?

Had there been at least one for Buffy?

“Can we go talk in the back?” she asked Tara. It was about time she shared what Angel had told her about Willow.

Xander exchanged a glance with Anya. Guess Buffy was done expecting them to do her dirty work and was no longer waiting for them to tell Tara the truth about Willow.

Okay, maybe that was a little bit harsh, but Xander was still struggling to deal with it himself and he wasn’t up to helping Tara cope as well. And then there was the matter of telling Anya about the call he’d had Dawn make to Cordelia. Nope, he wasn’t signing on for further missions; he had his own pain on the home front to deal with.

Tara nervously followed Buffy to the back of the store. Private talks with Buffy – they had a tendency to be not so good. There had been that one about sending Willow to Los Angeles…

“W-what did you want to talk to me about?” Tara asked almost as soon as they’d entered the training room.

“It’s…wow. This isn’t easy,” Buffy said, stalling and looking everywhere but at Tara. “I just…”

Figuring she knew what Buffy was so worried about asking, Tara cut her off. She was almost impossibly glad to be talking about this and not about Willow. “I-I’ve double checked everything. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

There wasn’t? Buffy let herself get distracted for a moment. “Then how come Spike could hurt me?”

“Well, I said there was nothing wrong with you, but…you are different. Shifting you out…f-f-from where you were…funneling your essence back into your body…i-it, it altered you on a basic molecular level. Probably just enough to confuse the sensors or whatever in Spike’s chip. But it’s all just surface-y physical stuff. It wouldn’t have any more effect than…a bad sunburn.”

“I didn’t come back wrong?” How could that be? Buffy didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t feel like herself at all.

“No, you’re the same Buffy. With a deep tropic cellular tan.” Tara smiled and took Buffy’s hand, wondering why she still looked so depressed. “Th-that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, still full of doubt but knowing that all she was doing was distracting herself and postponing the inevitable. “It’s…look, I really appreciate you looking into this for me and…but I didn’t actually bring you back here to talk about me.”

Tara’s face fell. This wasn’t going to be good, was it? “Is…is this about Willow?”

“I’m afraid so. I…I talked to Angel a couple of days ago and…I…there’s no good way to say this: Willow…she’s not getting much better. I mean, she’s trying and Angel says she’s staying off the magic and they’re still trying to find some kind of expert to help, but…”

After that, all Tara could see were Buffy’s lips moving. She could feel her own hand turn cold and clammy against the warmth of Buffy’s skin and there was a roaring in her ears that drowned out every other sound.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting in a chair. How had she gotten here?

“Are you okay? Tara?” Buffy’s voice was faint and seemed very far away. But not as far as Willow – no, not anywhere near as far as Willow. Tara wasn’t okay. Leaning forward and covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears. Later, she’d remember that Buffy put her arms around her, but she didn’t notice now.

Willow slunk down the stairs, feeling for all the world as if she were doing something clandestine. In a way, she was. After all, she was trying desperately to avoid both Spike and Angel. She could have stayed in her room, of course, but she’d gotten hungry. She only hoped neither of them happened to be in the kitchen.

Luck seemed to be with her, so she hurriedly rooted through the fridge, finding the makings of a roast beef sandwich and some kosher pickles. It was strange how even though she didn't really think of herself as Jewish anymore, she still had a ‘thing’ about kosher food. Maybe not so strange; she’d always been the sentimental type – clinging onto fond relics of the past as if they were priceless treasure. To her, they were, even when all they were was a word on a jar label.

Finishing the preparation of her sandwich and adding the pickles to the plate, Willow prepared to take it back to her room, she turned around and…

“Oh Goddess! Wesley, you scared me!” Willow dropped her plate, scattering food all over the floor. It took her a moment to register relief that at least the dish was plastic and therefore unbreakable. Her meal, however, was a lost cause.

“I’m so sorry,” Wesley said, immediately kneeling down to help clear the sandwich contents from the floor. “I was about to say something when you turned ‘round. Do forgive me.”

Willow concentrated on catching here breath. At least he wasn’t Angel or Spike. “It’s okay,” she said, even as she mourned her sandwich all the way to the trash can.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you all day and I am glad of this opportunity,” Wesley said out of nowhere.

Willow wanted to ask why he hadn’t knocked on her door – after all, he’d done so before – but Wesley was someone she didn’t know well enough to feel comfortable asking nearly any questions of. As he’d said last time they talked, this wasn’t Sunnydale. He was no longer the…well…_doofus_ she’d looked down on. He was someone else and she had no idea how to talk to him. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked at last, hoping it was safe.

“It’s about... It’s about your magic.” Oh no. Maybe there was a reason he was so reluctant to approach her. Before she could say anything, though, he spoke again. “I spoke to a contact today, a woman I’ve been hoping to reach for some time. She…she had some very interesting things to say about your case.”

Interesting. That was usually not a good word. “W-what did she say?”

“Well, after I provided her with the details as I knew them – and I must admit that Angel did share your concerns about your withdrawal, or rather the lack thereof, which I passed on as well – she…she sought counsel and when she called me back,” Willow braced herself for the worst, “she informed me that your case was not one of magical addiction at all.”

Huh? “But… does she know that I did have withdrawal back in Sunnydale? And… did Buffy tell you about Rack?”

“Yes,” Wesley said gently. “She did. But according to Alana,” Willow stared for a moment before she realized that must be the name of his contact, “your symptoms were…well…a warning.” He sounded almost fatherly when he continued. “Your power is natural. It’s a part of you. Alana…her coven…they know of you. You went through what you did because you misused your gift. But you were never meant to renounce the use of magic. You have a destiny, to fight on the side of right – that’s what your powers are for. Which, of course, explains why you felt nothing after using your skills to protect Connor and all of us. That reminds me – I don’t believe I’ve thanked you properly for guarding my life. I am very grateful and I…I thank you.”

It was all so much to digest that she couldn’t even register Wesley’s thanks. She wasn’t supposed to be the one with the destiny; that was Buffy, just Buffy. The idea that she, too, was someone important, someone who mattered, not just an upstart with delusions of grandeur… Could it be true? Was magic her gift and not someone else’s coat she’d been wearing? There were tears in her eyes when she finally answered Wesley. “You’re welcome,” she said. The pause had been so long it took Wesley a few seconds to put two and two together.

“It was quite a fortunate thing, your being with us.” He seemed about to say more on the subject when they were joined by a third party. “Angel. I was just…”

“Would you leave us alone, please?” Angel’s eyes were fixed on Willow even as he clearly addressed Wesley. He’d come down here for blood, but finding Willow… They needed to talk. Last night was something that needed to be dealt with.

“Yes, of course,” Wesley said. He was offended about being dealt with so summarily, but he chose not to make an issue of it. His relationship with Angel had not exactly been warm lately and there was no good to be gained from exacerbating the tension. There was a look in Willow’s eye that seemed to ask him to stay, but while it gave him pause, he exited the kitchen.

Great. Thanks, Wesley. That’s gratitude for you. Her mind was already reeling from what he’d told her about her magic and now…now he left her all alone with Angel. “So, what brings you here?” she asked, trying to smile and act as if there was no awkwardness between them. It didn’t work, but at least she tried.

“Willow, we…”

“Did Wesley tell you?” Willow was so desperate to avoid this conversation that she was more than willing to discuss the very confusing things she’d just learned about her magic instead. “It looks like maybe I’m not a junkie after all.”

“No…I…” Angel decided to let Willow change the subject. This was important and something he definitely wanted to hear about. “How did he come to that conclusion?”

“He talked to someone – I think he said her name was Alana – and she’s with some coven and I guess they know about me somehow and she said that what I went through with withdrawal in Sunnydale was because I misused my magic.” The words came out in a rush, Willow’s nerves wreaking havoc with her delivery, but she hoped Angel got the gist of it. Or hey, maybe he didn’t and she’d have to explain it again. That might be more distracting and thus better suited to helping her avoid that _other_ conversation – the one she didn’t want to have.

“I see,” Angel said. And he did. It made sense – so much more sense than Willow as some sort of addict. But he wished – oh how he wished – that Wesley hadn’t told her. Would this mean she would be packing for Sunnydale? Leaving Los Angeles? Leaving _him_? He pushed any concerns about the repercussions of the lies he’d told out of his mind for now. After all, Willow’s absence from his life would trump any consequences he might face.

All sorts of thoughts were running through Willow’s mind. Angel didn’t seem the least bit confused, but on the other hand, he wasn’t saying anything, so maybe that was just as good. The ramifications of what Wesley told her were just beginning to emerge into her awareness and they left her feeling more lost and tangled up than ever.

She wasn’t a junkie. She could go home. But…

As much as she didn’t want to deal with her feelings for Spike or Angel’s possible feelings for her, she couldn’t go back to Sunnydale without doing just that. How could she face Tara? Or Buffy? Or anyone, really? And what about how to explain to them what she’d learned? How would they deal with that? Would they even believe her? Or Wesley for that matter? After all, Buffy and Xander only knew him as the barely competent buffoon they’d known years ago. They hadn’t had the chance to meet the very different man Willow was beginning to realize he was today.

No, she wasn’t ready to go back. But she was afraid to stay. What kind of a position was that to be in?

“Are you going back?” Angel’s voice may have been soft, but the words were so attuned to what she was thinking that Willow couldn’t help but hear them.

“Do you want me to?” She wanted him to say yes. She wanted him to say no.

“I think you know what the answer to that is.” His eyes were deep and full of meaning and Willow couldn’t hide behind words like ‘possible’ anymore. It would be so easy to hate him right now. She might if she didn’t know how impossible it was to stop yourself from caring about the most wrong of wrong people.

“Angel, I… I want to stay, just for a while, while I get things figured out, but…”

“You don’t feel the same way I do.” He’d said it out loud. That was as frightening as anything but losing Connor…or Willow. “I know.” He wanted to add ‘but you could someday’. While he didn’t, he let the words linger in his hopes, though he knew how little it would matter if she did.

“No,” she said, walking to him and taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I never thought…” Her eyes were full of tears and she couldn’t say anything more. Angel took her in his arms and held her close. There were no secrets between them now. Maybe that was a good thing.

The City of Angels. Bloody hell, if there was more than one of him… Spike took another drag from his cigarette, not giving a damn about Angel’s stupid ‘no smoking’ rules. Not like he could go outside and take a smoke break in the sun, now could he.

Why in the name of all that was unholy had Spike let that stupid bitch talk him into this? Just how much of his brain had he spilled inside that tight little body of hers? A bit of quivering lip and a few tears and hi ho, Spike’s taking the little witch to Los Angeles. Los Angeles – the place where dreams come true, right? Oh, and Spike had dreams, now didn’t he? Dreams of bringing a Slayer bitch to heel, making her crawl and beg, whine and plead.

Who was the bitch now?

For the life of him, Spike couldn’t understand it. He had been just fine for decades. Hadn’t missed the bastard he once called ‘sire’ at all. He hadn’t. Okay, maybe when Angelus had been around that last time, it had stung a bit that they hadn’t shared so much as a single nostalgic snog, but give a vampire a break – he’d been horny as anything what with Dru not tending to his needs since the day that damn organ had landed on him and Angelus had always been one hell of a shag. But it hadn’t meant anything, not anything at all. And as for Angel… he’d never fancied the souled prat. Who would? Well, besides Buffy.

So what the hell had happened? How had Angel somehow…not that… Bugger it. Denial wasn’t working anymore, whiskey wasn’t working anymore, _nothing_ was working anymore.

Except for the blasted chip, of course.

Maybe that was it, maybe that stupid piece of man-made torture was to blame for it all.

If only it were that easy…if only… Not as if the chip explained Red getting all het up about him. Damn it, why had she gone and been so bloody stupid? It made everything worse, as if things weren’t as dead awful as they could possibly be already. And no, he was not shouldering the blame, even if it _was_ all because of that plan of his. The plan…oh that brilliant plan. Now _that_ he _was_ going to hold to the account of that wretched chip – which meant that nothing was his fault after all, right?

Spike took a final drag from the cigarette and stubbed it out in the old relic of an ashtray he’d found in one of the other rooms. He headed for the closet. One bottle left. Whiskey would have one more chance to get it right, but after that…

He’d give it another chance.

  
Tbc…


	11. Chapter Ten

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Ten)

After her emotional encounter with Angel, Spike was the last person Willow wanted to talk to, but there were things he needed to know and if she postponed this, it would only get harder.

She knocked on his door.

Not nearly drunk enough off the one measly bottle of whiskey he’d consumed, Spike was debating whether he was in fit condition to get away with a shoplifting run to the nearby liquor store when the twin sounds of a knock and a familiar heartbeat halted his plans. Damn. He was pretty sure he was either too sober or not sober enough to deal with Red right now. He went to the door and opened it rather than just telling her to come in.

“Hey,” Willow said nervously as Spike opened the door. His eyes…he looked sad and Willow wondered why. Probably because she’d screwed up their plan. She fought the urge to reach out and hug him. He wouldn’t like that; he’d sure made his feelings for her clear during their abortive training session. Who knew what her current news would do to his mood? Would he be pleased or sorrier than ever?

“I…umm…Wesley told me some stuff just now that I figured you ought to know.” Nothing like cutting to the chase.

Spike stood aside and gestured for Willow to enter. Without having a clue what to say, he opted to just keep his mouth shut. Besides, if he knew the witch, she could talk enough for the both of them.

She waited – standing in the middle of the room and biting her lip as she fidgeted – but Spike didn’t so much as ask a single question. Guess she wasn’t really surprised by his lack of warmth now.

Back in the training room, when he’d been on top of her – it’s not like he couldn’t smell how she’d reacted. She knew about vampire senses. And then there’d been those tears and the look she knew had been in her eyes… It was so humiliating, but what made it worse was that it had ended their friendship. They hadn’t spoken since and even now he wasn’t actually _speaking_ to her at all. He must really hate her.

“I’m sorry, okay?” She couldn’t stop the tears from coming to her eyes yet again. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be a sadist and force her to say just what she was apologizing for.

It had better be the alcohol that was causing Spike to feel so badly for the girl standing before him. Although maybe anyone would be moved at the sight of a woman apologizing for falling for them. If Willow was the sort of girl who got the odd, meaningless yen for someone or who’d ever been the one-night stand type, he’d feel so much better right now; at least then he could tell himself that her apology was a bit of melodrama and she’d be back snuggling happily with her low-watt-witch as soon as she got clean.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, speaking for the first time since she’d walked in. No point in telling her she had nothing to be sorry about; she took on more guilt than… No, Spike was not going to think about Angel.

“I… I found out something kind of cool tonight,” she began haltingly. “And it’s something that…” She hemmed and hawed, maybe because she still found it so hard to believe. “Wesley says I’m not a junkie after all. He talked to this coven and…what I thought - what we all thought – was withdrawal was really just some warning not to misuse my magic.”

Spike was in what might have been some kind of shock, if vampires were capable of that condition. The little witch wasn’t an addict after all; that should have been good news, really, but… She’d never needed to quit the magic cold turkey; she’d never needed to come to Los Angeles.

Without saying a word, he picked up the empty whiskey bottle from the floor and threw it against the far wall. “Bloody, buggering hell!” His cry almost drowned out the sound of glass shattering into thousands of pieces.

Whatever reaction Willow had expected, it wasn’t this one. She realized there had to be a lot more going on than just irritation at her having feelings for him. Was this because he’d been away from Buffy for no good reason? “I’m really sorry. Everyone thought…I mean, if I had any idea… But you’ll be seeing Buffy again soon and I promise I’ll do anything you say to make her realize what a great guy you are and…”

His eyes grew wide and scornful as he stared at her. What had she said that was so wrong?

“You think I’m angry about the bloody Slayer?” His voice was loud and cruel and he didn’t care. There she stood, trembling and fearful with those wide, innocent eyes…and the worst part? She _was_ innocent. Stupid, clueless bint had no idea that she was the catalyst for his whole unlife collapsing into ruin. Bet she didn’t even know she had something Spike wanted – that was how little she cared about what Spike longed for enough to nearly drown himself in whiskey to escape the pain.

And no, there was nothing ironic or fitting about the fact that he was hoist by the same petard that she was.

“I…” Frozen by the rage even she could almost feel pouring off of him, Willow’s tongue refused to work any longer.

A few seconds later, Spike grew rational again. He _should_ be angry about the Slayer, or more accurately, he should be angry _at_ the stupid bitch. She was the one who’d set this whole thing in motion. Willow hadn’t wanted to come here at all. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Not your fault, Red.” He almost meant it.

Willow still wasn’t sure exactly what he had become so furious about, but it wasn’t as if she was going to ask him any questions. She decided to just tell him the rest and then get out. “I’m…I’m sorta thinking that I’m gonna stay here for a little while longer, just a week at the most, get my…you know, get myself together.” What she meant,of course, was ‘figure out how to face Tara’. “Is that okay? I mean, if you want to leave tonight or… I’ll do whatever you say, okay?” No point in talking to him about her concerns about how to explain what she’d learned about her magic to her friends; she was pretty sure he didn’t care. The anger she wasn’t sure was gone set her to shaking and her teeth were this close to chattering. It had been a long time since she’d been afraid of Spike. Sadly, she didn’t love him any less because of the fear.

He was almost furious with her again. Here she was exuding fear in fragrant draughts and he couldn’t even enjoy it. Damn her. He reined in his temper and asked casually, “Does Peaches know about these plans of yours?”

“Yeah. He says I can stay here as long as I want.”

‘I’. Did she realize that one single word nearly put a stake through Spike’s heart? Not the least of which because he knew that Angel had indeed offered Willow alone an open-ended invitation. Not Spike – no, Spike was just some nuisance whose presence was tolerated for Willow’s sake.

She kept talking, oblivious to the pain she’d inflicted. “I’m not going to stay here for more than a week though. I don’t want to be a burden, you know?”

The ache in his gut made him cruel. “So your desire to head home so soon has nothing to do with Angel being in love with you?” He’d thought he would be delivering a shock to her. If he had, it was nothing compared to the one he got.

“You know?” Willow shook again. This was bad, so bad. What if other people knew, too? What if someone told Buffy?

Struggling to maintain a nonchalant façade, Spike said, “Not too hard to figure out. Bit surprised you did, though.” He’d meant to insult her, but it didn’t hit the mark.

“He kind of…he kind of told me tonight.” She left out the part where she’d sort of suspected it before – that was too closely tied to the humiliation of Spike discovering her own hopeless feelings for _him_.

“Bet that was a touching moment.” Spike couldn’t keep the sarcasm and resentment out of his voice.

And now Willow was more confused than ever. Spike clearly had no feelings for her, so why did he seem so bothered that Angel did? She stumbled through the words in her head, trying to find some to say that would get things back on track. “I never expected it. I mean, you have to admit it’s pretty unexpected. I still don’t really think…I mean because what Angel feels for Buffy – that's a forever thing" - Oh no! What a stupid thing to say! - "Not that I don't think you can win her over, I just meant him and...”

Maybe there was just this much excess whiskey left in Spike’s system, but the mention of Buffy yet again… it was too much. No one had any right to be so bloody naïve. His ire made him explode in an ill-advised outburst. “You think the whole bloody world revolves around that bitch, don’t you? Even with Angel handing you his worthless heart on a plate like some nancy boy, you think that it’s all about Buffy and no one else.”

Willow wasn’t normally quick on the uptake about people and feelings and such. It had taken Xander and Cordelia nearly mating in front of her to clue her in to their relationship, after all. But now – maybe life experience had finally taken effect, or maybe her own luckless passion for Spike along with Angel’s for her made her more perceptive of nuances. Whatever it was – Spike’s words – the anger that had seemed so random and inappropriate and senseless – she finally got it…finally got _it_. Reality hit her with the force of the car crash the night she’d almost killed Dawn. She felt just as terrible, too.

Oh God. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she choked out in a hoarse whisper. “Spike, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Without waiting for him to be even angrier than before, Willow ran from the room.

Spike was in love with Angel…who claimed to be in love with her.

She barely made it to her own quarters before bursting into tears. She was a bad person and she hurt people – and she couldn’t even blame it on addiction anymore. What was she going to do now?

Seeing as how Buffy bit the bullet and spilled the beans to Tara (Was that what you call a mixed metaphor? Xander sure wished Willow was here so he could ask her), Xander decided that there was no time like the present to let himself in for a world of hurt and tell Anya about the phone call.

“An?” he began. “Remember the other day when I was watching Dawn?”

“You mean when you asked her to call Cordelia?”

Oh God. Anya knew? “You know about…?”

“Yes, Dawn told me. Of course, she didn’t mean to tell me, but you know how she is – she said something and then I made her tell me what she meant, so yes, I know.”

And again: Oh God. “Are you mad?” Xander was struggling against the urge to cower.

“I was at first, but then I realized you didn’t actually speak to Cordelia and I’m sure there isn’t anything going on between you and her. So I suppose I forgive you, even though you should have asked me first.”

Relief was nowhere near a strong enough word for what he was feeling but Xander supposed it would do. He pulled Anya into a hug. “I love you.”

If he kept on saying those words, Anya supposed she might forgive Xander for anything, not that she was ever going to tell him that. “I love you, too.”

She was very grateful that he’d finally admitted to the phone call because this meant that now she could tell him what she’d been thinking. Pausing for several seconds so that Xander would understand that this was something very important and insightful, Anya finally said what she’d been longing to say for days, “I think they’re lying.”

Xander was so caught up in his relief at Anya’s forgiveness that he’d actually forgotten what he’d been worried she’d be angry about to begin with. “Who’s lying? What about?”

Anya heaved a dramatic and exasperated sigh. While she loved Xander very much, he could be maddening sometimes. “Angel and Cordelia. I think they’re lying. In fact, I know they’re lying.”

Xander stared at her, but he didn’t interrupt and that was good. Anya had a speech prepared and interruptions could sidetrack her. “Think about it. Cordelia hates Willow. We both know there’s no chance she forgave her for stealing you. I wouldn’t and I’m a much better person than she is. So how come she didn’t try to encourage Dawn to convince Buffy to bring her home? There’s only one reason I can think of. Money. She works for Angel and if she wants to keep making money she has to do what Angel says. And what Angel told her to do was to say…”

“That Willow’s in terrible shape.” Xander felt like he was breathing again. While there were certain aspects of Anya’s logic he might argue with, there was no denying that the basics were right on target. What shamed him was that he hadn’t thought of any of this for himself. Still, one thing bothered him. As much as he could believe anything of Angel, he still sort of figured the undead creep did things for a reason, so…”Why do you think he wants us to think Willow isn’t recovering?”

Another heavy sigh from Anya. Did she have to think of everything? Wasn’t it enough that she’d figured out that Angel wasn’t telling them the truth? Marriage was supposed to be an equal partnership – all her magazines said so – and Xander was just not pulling his weight. She sighed again and set to thinking.

After a moment, she gave up. Okay, maybe she hadn’t been fair to Xander. Perhaps he’d tried after all, because _she_ was trying and she wasn’t coming up with any answer either. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t lying.”

There was no arguing with that, and Xander didn’t. “No, it doesn’t.” He still wished he had a clue what Deadboy’s reason was, though.

They both stayed silent for awhile. Xander figured they were both hard at work on answering the motive question. Then Anya said something surprising – and again it was something so simple that he should have thought of it himself. “Why don’t we just drive to L.A. and see what’s going on for ourselves?”

Xander’s jaw dropped, doing half of what it needed to do to form the word ‘yes’, which he had fully intended to do when his brain did something very annoying – it started to work. He was having thoughts and it sucked. “What’s Buffy going to say? You know this whole ‘shipping Willow off’ thing was her idea and there’s no way she’s going to believe that her precious Angel would lie to her.”

Anya didn’t sigh this time. After all, Xander’s question was a good one and it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t figured out the answer the way she had. “We don’t tell her.” Before he could cut her off, she skipped the pause for effect and finished her idea. “I tell Buffy there’s something I have to have for the wedding and I need you to go with me to San Francisco to get it. That explains why both of us are going _and_ she’ll think we’re at the other end of the state from where we really are.”

If Xander had any doubts before, he didn’t now – Anya was the best girlfriend (fiancée) ever. “Have I ever told you that you are incredibly smart?” It struck him suddenly that she was expressing a great deal of non-jealous concern for his best friend, as well. Better do something about that also. “Thanks, An. I mean, I know you don’t always feel comfortable about…”

“Other women?” she interjected. “It’s okay. Willow doesn’t like penises anymore and since Cordelia’s a liar… Besides, I realized something: You’re marrying me, _me_, and that means something. It’s not like you’re doing it for sex, after all, because I already give you sex. Lots of sex. And very good sex, too.” Xander nodded emphatically in the affirmative. “So you must love me or you wouldn’t marry me and so I don’t need to worry about other women.”

She hugged him again before continuing. “You know,” she said, her expression and tone now human and vulnerable, “I’m worried about Willow, too. I never thought sending her away was a good idea.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed, not bothering to add that he hadn’t either.

“So it’s all settled, right?” She was all business again. “We’ll tell everyone that we’re going to San Francisco to look at whatever it is I think of that we need to get and as soon as I can arrange for Buffy and Tara to watch the shop, we’ll really drive to Los Angeles.” Xander was about to argue about whether that could be managed, but Anya caught his drift and waved him off. “I’ll make them do it, don’t worry. We’ll be there in just a couple of days at most, I promise. You know, Buffy and Tara really owe us this since it’s their fault we have to go rescue Willow in the first place.”

Try as he might, Xander couldn’t make himself see any holes in Anya’s argument there. He might hate himself for it sometimes, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t blamed both women more than once for Willow’s decline and fall, not to mention her exile. “I love you, An.” His voice was low and reverent and Anya smiled at him.

“I know.” There was that soft face again. “But I like hearing you say it.” She let him pull her into his arms and they stayed that way for a long while.

Tbc…


	12. Chapter Eleven

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eleven)

“I promise you one thing, little guy. As long as I’m around, Willow will _not_ be shopping for your wardrobe.” Cordelia finished changing Connor’s diaper – something Willow had never once done – and did up the snaps on the pants she’d bought for him. “There! Now you’re perfect.”

“If it means anything, Willow didn’t mean to…you know…get in the way.”

“What makes you think I think she’s in the way of anything?” Cordelia asked, trying to sound as if she didn’t give a damn as she turned to face Lorne. “Because that’s just silly. Willow? In my way?”

Lorne didn’t buy the bravado for a moment, but he admired it. The way Cordelia took it on the chin was something, that was for sure. There was the fashion sense, too, but the gumption was what pulled it all together. He supposed he understood Angel’s change of feelings – the guy was a misery magnet –but if Lorne were the one doing the choosing…

He went on as if Cordelia hadn’t said anything. “Fate is a strange thing. And it sure doesn’t make sense sometimes.” Right after that, though, he found he couldn’t say more. The truth was that he wasn’t feeling much better than Cordelia. He’d invested himself in the tight-knit little family they’d seemed to be becoming – seen himself as some sort of fairy godfather bringing Cordelia and Angel together – it would have been wonderful if things could have gone the way he’d…

But then _she_ showed up and the universe turned inside out. No going back, though, no going back at all.

“I could have… you know…been really good for him. As a friend, I mean, because hey, who’d be interested in anything else with…I mean there’s that curse, and…” Cordelia’s voice trailed off. She was about as believable as she was going to be and one more word would wreck it, not that she thought Lorne believed her as it was.

No, Lorne didn’t believe her at all. “For what it’s worth,” he began, but there wasn’t anything to say after that. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Cordelia, letting her cry the few tears she’d allow herself when she wasn’t all alone. He felt honoured she gave them to him.

There was more he could have told her, but he knew it would hurt more than help. Telling Cordelia that Willow didn’t love Angel - might _never_ love Angel - would just be another kick in the teeth. How would anyone feel knowing that something they would have cherished was being given to someone who didn’t even want it? And learning that this was all set in motion by the Powers That Be would probably not be much help in cheering her up either. It sure wasn’t doing much for Lorne.

“Someone’s going to appreciate you, Princess,” he said after a few moments; Cordelia’s heart ached as she thought of Doyle. Love was a very bad thing.

Willow knocked softly on the door to Angel’s room, not at all sure of her idea but determined to at least try. While she had to have doubts about the efficacy of any plan cobbled together during an hour’s hysterics – and while sleeping on it might be best – she knew she’d lose her nerve unless she did something right now, tonight, while her guilt over having what Spike wanted so much still pained her enough to make her brave.

Angel answered the door almost too quickly. Willow wasn’t quite ready to face him. “Angel. Uh…hi.”

It was obvious Willow had just washed her face before coming to see him, but Angel could still smell the tears she’d been shedding. Were they over Spike or over him? Which answer would best please him was a question he didn’t want answered. “Come in.” He stepped back from the doorway and gestured for her to enter. She did, wrapping her arms around herself once she’d settled on a place to stand. Seeing how nervous and uncomfortable she was, there was probably no point in offering, but…”Would you like to sit down?”

“Um…okay.” She sat down hastily on his couch, surprising him, before suddenly blurting out, “I’m going home. Tomorrow. As soon as I can rent a car.”

What? Just an hour or so earlier, she’d said she would stay at least long enough to sort things out. She’d given Angel hope – hope that he’d be able to convince her that here was where she belonged. But now… What could have happened? “Why?” he asked, not having any idea how to ask everything he wanted to ask.

“I just… I’m not a junkie. So that means I can go home. To my friends. To my life. To Tara.” She hoped those last two words didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.

They might have. Angel sat down next to her – too close – looking skeptical and searching. Still, what he said was, “If that’s what you want.” She tried not to, but she flinched slightly as Angel reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’ll miss you. But if that’s what you feel you need to do...”

“It is.” His eyes were full of pain and she felt horrible. Everyone was hurting and she realized for the hundredth time that it was all her fault.

“So you and Spike will be going back tomorrow night then.”

Wait a minute… “Spike?” Willow hadn’t said anything about Spike, and for good reason – she was leaving him here. She figured that the two of them spending time together – as well as the fact that Spike being a vampire too meant that there wasn’t any danger of Angel forgetting what he was and losing his soul – would make Angel see Spike for who he was: an amazing man who’d changed and grown and was worth caring about, even loving. That was the plan, and it was a good one. But it only worked if Spike stayed in Los Angeles.

“You’re going back,” Angel replied. Why did Willow sound so confused? “You and Spike.”

“I… I kinda thought Spike should stay here. I mean, he’s been helping you and he really gets along better with everyone here than he does with everyone in Sunnydale and…” Her expression was pleading and desperate – so much so that Angel got it – the reason behind what she was doing. It was tragic, what she was willing to do for that oblivious bastard.

He’d been honest about his feelings for her; no reason he couldn’t be honest about the rest. “I don’t feel that way about him, Willow. In case you haven’t noticed, my heart’s already taken.”

What emboldened him to do what he did next, he’d never know – maybe it was the exclamation point to his statement, maybe he hoped that this gesture would convince her that she could come to care for him the way he did for her – but whatever the reason, he cupped her face in both his hands, leaned in…and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, nothing aggressive or passionate, but it was a kiss as full of emotion as any he’d ever shared with anyone. And if it wasn’t completely _shared_ in this instance, it was no less sweet for all of it.

Willow was paralyzed as Angel kissed her. The guilt roared up within her – dripping talons fit to tear her to shreds. But… she couldn’t bring herself to end it, as much as it should have been Spike’s lips receiving it and not hers. She let Angel keep kissing her.

If she had lost herself in it, her mind wouldn’t have reached for the plan and reshaped it, but she didn’t and her mind did. “Angel?” she asked when his lips left hers, “If I stay… if I stay, can Spike stay, too?”

His hopes came close to dying completely, but he couldn’t allow them to be lost, so he held on tight with both hands as he answered, “Yes.”

She got up from the couch, wondering if she wasn’t making things worse than ever. But there was no going back. Loving Spike… it meant wanting him to have what _he_ wanted, and what he wanted was Angel. This was the only way she could think of to get that for him. After all, Angel would have to realize someday that Spike was… perfect. It would just take time, that was all, time she was more than willing to buy for Spike with any coin she had.

“Thank you,” she said, her hand on the doorknob. Before she could leave, however…

Angel pulled her into his arms. This time the kiss was harder, needier. He’d try any argument he could think of to win her over. And in time – in time – she’d realize that Spike could never give her what she wanted, what she needed. Then she’d love Angel. She would. It would just take time. And if that meant letting Spike stay, then so be it.

“I know,” Dawn said, her voice choked with emotion. “We were all sure that this was gonna be nothing, you know? I didn’t think anything could get the best of Willow. I mean, she never…” She felt as if she was about to cry, but she couldn’t. Tara was sitting right across from her and besides, they were in a restaurant. Tears in public were bad, right?

Tara couldn’t think of anything to say. Girl’s night with Dawn – it was supposed to be a distraction, but neither of them had been able to stay off the topic of Willow for long. “Magic is… it-it’s not like anything else.” She’d been about to say it was dangerous, but she didn’t want to make the conversation more alarming than it was, though that was kind of silly, wasn’t it? Dawn knew just how dangerous magic was firsthand.

Dawn spoke as if Tara had said nothing. “I didn’t want to believe it, but after I talked to Cordelia...” Oops! Tara was staring at her all wide-eyed and curious now. When was Dawn going to learn to keep her mouth shut? First Anya, now Tara, although she guessed both of them had the right to know and it wasn’t as bad as if she’d accidentally slipped and told _Buffy_ or something.

Those eyes – how could you not tell Tara what she wanted to know when she was looking at you all sad and pleading? “Xander doesn’t trust Angel, so he asked me to call Cordelia and see if she said the same stuff Angel did and… Cordelia confirmed it. Willow is…well, it’s like Angel said. But she did say one thing that was new. She said Spike’s been taking care of her, so that explains why he’s still there – and hey, at least it means she has a friend looking out for her, right?” Dawn tried to smile, hoping that last piece of information would soften the blow. It almost had for _her_.

Tara stared off into space, her mind in a fog. The recollection of what Cordelia had said weeks ago unnerved her. Maybe it was nothing, but… Why hadn’t Cordelia said anything about Willow’s condition then? Or simply made some polite excuse, seeing as how she didn’t know Tara? All of a sudden, the boyfriend remark took on greater significance, too, though Tara didn’t want to allow that to happen. Had Cordelia actually been _more_ honest with a stranger than she had been with Dawn?

No, that wasn’t it at all. Willow would never… just because she’d dated guys before… This was _Spike_. Spike had tried to kill Willow more than once. Besides, he was in love with Buffy. Tara was just being foolish and paranoid, that was all – probably her mind’s odd way of trying to pretend that Willow wasn’t in such bad shape after all. Because wasn’t it more compassionate to want someone you loved not to be sick, no matter what the alternative was? That was it. That had to be it. Besides, it wasn’t as if Cordelia was the only source of the information. They’d heard it from Angel, too, and Angel wouldn’t lie – not to Buffy.

Things were as bad as Buffy had said, as painful as that was; Tara was just going to have to accept that.

Maybe it would help if she visited Willow. She would call and ask.

Clearing the mess from her thoughts, she focused on Dawn once more and smiled. “Yeah, that’s good. I’m glad Spike is there.” She took a sip from her soda and changed the subject. “So, what movie do you want to see?”

Guess she needed to unpack her suitcase, seeing as how she was staying. Willow tried to distract herself with the minutiae of putting shirts back on hangers and underwear back in the dresser but it didn’t work very well.

Angel had kissed her and, while she hadn’t exactly kissed him back, she hadn’t pushed him away either. And what was worse, she had to admit that on a certain level, she’d even enjoyed it. No, she didn’t feel _that_ way about him, but she’d felt so rejected and lost for what seemed like an eternity that – yes – his kiss had been almost a blessing. She’d learned to crave touch with Tara – they’d been so physical, not just when it came to sex, but all day long: holding hands, hugging, reaching out to each other in dozens of small ways. That weakness and need didn’t make this okay, though; those were just excuses, flimsy alibis. Hadn’t Xander said once that making excuses was what addicts did? Guess they weren’t just for junkies anymore.

After a moment, she walked into the bathroom; there was a mirror over the sink and Willow needed to see herself almost desperately. Would she still look the same after what she’d just done, after kissing someone who wasn’t hers, after having made a devil’s bargain for reasons both clear and murky?

Funny, she looked like the same old Willow: straight red hair grown out too much from her last haircut; pale skin devoid of what little colour she’d gotten from all those walks in the sun she used to take with Tara; green eyes gone bloodshot and puffy from too little sleep and too many tears. But wait a minute – the lips…yes, those told a story, didn’t they? She stared at their reflection and could swear they bore the traces of misuse, told a story of guilt and treachery without having to part even once for a word to emerge.

How would she ever face her friends, the woman she once loved – still loved at least in some part of her heart? She’d have to do that, though, someday. Because someday Angel would realize that Spike was a far worthier object of his love than Willow had ever been and there’d be no need for her here anymore.

As much as she wanted that day to come, it was terrifying.

She decided to face it anyway.

Spike had done her the courtesy of letting him in on his plan; the least she could do was return the favour.

He hadn’t been in his room, but an exhaustive search finally led Willow to the one she sought. Spike was out in the garden, of all places. She could smell the whiskey almost before she saw him. It pained her to think of him needing to drink so much. “Hey,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him. How well were his senses working, after all?

“If it isn’t Little Red Riding Hood,” he said, more clearly than she’d expected.

“Not so much with the riding, or the hood for that matter,” she said nervously. “But the red part’s right.”

“Leave it to you to bring logic to this party.” The girl never changed, no matter what.

“You’re kinda drunk, aren’t you?” she asked, though he could tell it was only a question because she was so bloody polite.

“Not that bad off, pet. Tripped on one of these damn flagstones and spilt more on myself than in myself, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” That was a relief, really, because now she knew she could tell him what she was doing and he’d actually remember tomorrow. “That’s good, because I have something I sort of need to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re staying. I mean, not for just a week. We’re staying for awhile.” Her arms were wrapped around herself and she was chewing her bottom lip. The nervous energy she was giving off nearly made _Spike_ twitch. Something was up.

“Care to clue a bloke in on the reason for that?”

She wanted to tell him – heck, she’d meant to tell him – but all of a sudden, she couldn’t figure out exactly how. Hurting his feelings would be terrible and she knew from recent experience that hurting people seemed to come naturally to her. “I… You remember when we were talking before? About…_feelings_ and… I kind of realized that you…I mean…”

What in the name of all hell was she trying to say? “Is there a point being made here, Red? ‘Cause I’m not getting it.” Gathering up his duster and what was left of his whiskey, Spike stood up, ready to head back to his room where he could at least lock the door and drink in peace.

Spike’s impatience, while justified, didn’t make it any easier for Willow to say what she wanted to say as carefully as she wanted to say it, but he looked like he was going to walk away before she got a chance to sort it out, so she just opened her mouth and said, “I know you want Angel and we’re staying here to give him time to realize that he wants you, too.” At least she had managed not to use the word ‘love’.

The bottle of whiskey nearly slipped from his grasp before he righted himself and set it gently down. “That so?” he asked, not bothering to deny her characterization of his feelings.

He approached her and as he got closer, he caught the scent of his sire. Just what the hell had been going on tonight?

He must have uttered that last thought aloud, because Willow cowered slightly as he drew near. “I just went to talk to him and…I was gonna go back and leave you here, but…”

Willow hated herself immediately for her honesty. Spike looked as if he’d been slapped. “The Poof wouldn’t go for that, eh?”

“No, but…”

The closer he got to her, the more he smelled his sire. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough not to put two and two together and it tore him in half: jealousy on the one side and gratitude on the other.

“You let him touch you.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

“For me?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice was even softer this time and no one but a demon could have heard it.

In a flash, she was in the arms of a vampire for the second time in an hour, Spike’s lips caressing hers. And if a part of her suddenly understood what Angel must have felt when kissing her, another part of her reveled in sharing a kiss with someone she desired. She knew why it was happening, but she didn’t think about that. Besides, gratitude was a good thing, right?

Willow’s lips still tasted of his sire and Spike almost groaned. For a moment, he thought of taking her back to her room and bedding her. She was warm and willing and eager and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t enjoy her. But he couldn’t. She loved him, loved him enough to sacrifice everything for him. The most he could do without taking advantage was kiss her and give her some small measure of what she wanted but was willing to hand over to someone else. If love had any honour to it, Spike would feel at least some for Willow. But love wasn’t like that, now was it? Love wasn’t like that at all.

Tbc…


	13. Chapter Twelve

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twelve)

Willow’s dreams had been chaotic and she woke up almost more worn out and in need of sleep than she had been when she went to bed. But there was nothing to be done about it, so at last she dragged herself from between the sheets and tried to pull herself together as best she could.

After a quick shower and the rest of her morning ablutions, Willow decided to see if Angel was about. While she was a bit nervous about going to his room again – not being ready for a possible repeat of last night’s encounter – there were thing she needed to discuss with him. Well, _one_ thing, really – how was she going to cover her absence much longer?

Sure, while she’d been nervously waiting for the withdrawal to hit, convinced she was a hopeless junkie, she hadn’t really thought about how long she was staying away. But now? Yeah, now she realized she’d been here for weeks and other than one talk with Xander… They had to be wondering about her – missing her – didn’t they? They’d call; she was sure of it. When they did, she needed to have gotten her story straight with Angel.

She headed down to the lobby and was glad to see Angel there, with Connor. And hey, they were alone. That was a plus. “Hi.”

Taking in Willow’s haggard appearance, Angel knew she hadn’t gotten much rest. Neither had he, but he didn’t need it nearly as much as she did. Still, while he was sure his actions last night played a part in her wakefulness, he didn’t feel badly about it. He’d held her – kissed her. That wasn’t something he would ever regret. “Good morning.” He watched as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, clearly nervous. He wondered why. “Are you all right?”

“Me? I’m…”

Just then, a certain necessity made itself known.”He needs changing,” Angel interrupted, indicating the baby in his arms. “Want to come with me?” He didn’t wait for her answer before turning and heading back to the nursery. She wasn’t the type to let a conversation end before it started.

Willow shrugged and followed Angel’s retreating form. What else could she do? For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she had a feeling that the subject of dealing with her friends was one that needed to be discussed sooner rather than later, and that ‘sooner’ meant ‘as soon as possible.’

In the nursery, though, she found she couldn’t speak. She was transfixed by watching Angel tend to his son. It was incongruous, how normal and human he seemed and it was touching as well, seeing how very much he loved the little boy. For the first time, she wondered how Buffy would feel when she learned about Connor – _if_ she learned about Connor. Angel never spoke of telling her and it certainly wasn’t up to Willow to reveal his son’s existence to Buffy or anyone else. But speaking of her friends…

“Angel?” she said tentatively once Connor’s diaper was changed, “What do you think I should say…you know…about why I’m staying here so long?”

Of all the subjects she could have wanted to discuss with him… He’d thought he’d dodged this bullet when she had decided to stay. He paused, wondering how he was going to finesse his way out of trouble, when Willow’s reason for staying – painful as it was – came back to him, and with it, the realization that it afforded him the ability to be at least somewhat honest. “I already took care of that.”

He watched her face, finding something adorable in the confused expression she now wore. For all that she had grown into a beautiful, powerful woman, he was glad she still carried within her some of the girl she’d once been.

“How?” she asked after a few seconds passed.

What should he say to that? More truth, he supposed. “Buffy called several days ago. I told her… I told her you were still in bad shape.”

Willow could hardly believe her ears. Buffy had called? Why hadn’t Angel told her? Why, instead, had he lied to Buffy and said… “You told her _what_?” Just because what he said was probably a godsend now, that didn’t mean she was okay with Angel lying, both to Buffy and to her. Alright, no, he hadn’t actually told Willow a lie, but he’d lied by omission by not telling her that Buffy had called. That was deceptive and she was counting it as a lie. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you needed more time.” He sounded utterly sincere; he _looked_ utterly sincere. “After all, you were still worried about withdrawal. We hadn’t even heard from Wesley’s contact yet. I didn’t want them talking you into going back before you were ready.” Nothing in Angel’s tone or expression gave the lie to his words. Willow decided to take them at face value.

Besides, she was staying here anyway. It would be easier to just accept what he told her, especially since it had turned out to be quite expedient. She pushed aside the pang she felt at knowing Buffy had called and she hadn’t gotten to speak to her. Getting used to missing her friends was part of the package and had been from the beginning, and now…she owed it to Spike to remain stalwart.

“Okay,” she said, her own unexpectedly brief response suddenly reminding her of Oz – and how strange was it to think of him now?

It seemed to Angel as if Willow had accepted his explanation and that any anger she’d felt initially had passed. And why not? What he’d done had been motivated by his concern for her well-being and he could not be faulted for that.

He looked down at the infant he held – his son, his precious gift, the boy who was safe because of the woman standing before him. Yet for all of that, she’d never held Connor. It was time for that to change. “You know, he’s never gotten the chance to thank you for saving his life.” He held his son out to Willow, all but pleading for her to take him in her arms.

Willow stared at Connor as Angel offered him to her. She hesitated for a long moment, still not comfortable. She’d been ducking this eventuality since her arrival. Maybe she wasn’t a junkie, but that didn’t mean she was good. So much pain seemed easily laid to her account and she feared what her touch could do to the little boy. And it wasn’t as if she was used to children in any case. Babysitting Dawn was as close as she’d been to an infant in who knew how long, and given the fact that Dawn was an ostensible teenager who was in fact older than Anya, she guessed that wasn’t really very close at all.

With a sigh, she reached out and, with much trepidation, took the baby from Angel. Connor’s eyes caught hers as she held him, innocent and new, without any awareness of the things she’d done, looking at her as if she were some strange, wonderful thing he’d just discovered. It was powerful and for a few seconds she almost forgot to breathe. “You’re a sweet boy, yes, you are,” she said softly when her lungs returned to working.

Watching Willow hold Connor was closer to perfect happiness than Angel ever thought he’d safely be. Someday they’d be a family – somehow. There had to be a way to deal with the curse…and with the feelings she had for Spike. The way she’d come back into his life seemed like the work of destiny.

“He likes you.” The words felt both necessary and superfluous.

Her smile warmed him. “I like him, too.” Those words weren’t superfluous at all.

Anya’s car pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the Hyperion and Xander finally drew a breath. He loved her, he really did, but so help him he was having her sign a pre-nup specifying that _he_ did all the driving once they were married. They were here though and that was what mattered.

“Thanks.” He gave her a small smile, genuinely grateful that she had been willing to get up so early and drive them here today.

“You’re welcome.” She reached over and took Xander’s hand. “This has to be a good time. Angel will probably still be asleep seeing as how this is sort of nighttime for vampires, right? I mean, Spike was always dead to the world at this hour.” Realizing what she’d just said, she was glad to see Xander grin. Still, she felt the need to clarify her statement. “That was a figure of speech, by the way. Because actually Spike is _always_ dead to the world – because he’s dead.”

Xander’s smile grew broader. An could always do that – distract him at the bleakest and most difficult moments. For all that her tactless and awkward ways chafed at times, they brought him more happiness than humiliation and he hoped she never changed. But reality had to be faced and Xander’s expression turned serious as he said, “We better go in now.”

Anya, for her part, smiled at him. “It’s going to be okay.” And it probably was, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if Angel would _hurt_ Willow, even if he was keeping her here for reasons Anya couldn’t figure out yet. He had his soul…didn’t he? She fought not to hyperventilate and upset Xander as the possibility that Angel might be a bad guy again crossed her mind for the first time. But that was ridiculous. Someone would have told them. From what she’d heard, Angelus wasn’t exactly subtle and the carnage would have filtered to them through the demon grapevine for sure. The smile remained as she grew calm once more.

Xander got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Anya. His hand shook slightly as he held the handle. What they were about to find out, he had no idea, and even after all these years, Xander still hated the unknown.

She got out, taking that shaking hand after he’d closed the door. The gesture quieted his nerves, made him feel more confident. That was something else Anya did for him – she made him feel like he was man enough to handle things: big things, important things. Like whatever was going on with Willow, for instance. He took a deep breath and they walked, hand in hand, into the old hotel.

There was no doubt about it, Anya decided when they entered the lobby of the Hyperion, the Watcher’s Council had been shortchanging them for years. How come Angel and his group got a place like this? With red velvet furniture and high ceilings and hey – income potential! Were they renting out any of the rooms? Because if they weren’t, for a nominal fee, Anya would be glad to help them formulate a business plan and…

What was she thinking? This was about Willow, who was Xander’s friend…and _her_ friend, too; Willow, who might be in a whole lot of trouble right now. Anya needed to focus. Friendship now, capitalism later.

There were voices coming from the lobby and one of them sounded very familiar to Angel. “Xander’s here,” he said softly, motioning for Willow to stay quiet. “Let me go see what he wants. I’ll come and get you in a minute.” He didn’t need to ask her if she wanted to keep up the cover story. What had they just been discussing?

She simply nodded and Angel left, making his way back downstairs in a trice. And yes indeed, there was Xander Harris, accompanied by a girl he remembered as Anya. They were facing away from the staircase, still clearly believing they were alone. “This is a surprise,” Angel said, enjoying their obvious agitation as they whipped around at the sound of his voice.

“We’re here to see Willow,” Xander responded harshly. It was funny how just a few seconds in the vampire’s presence reminded him just how much he hated Angel. Smug, sneaky bastard.

Anya immediately chimed in with “Yes, and we’re not leaving until we see her.”

Angel hadn’t liked what little he’d known of Anya back in Sunnydale; he liked her less now. “Of course,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “Let me see if she’s awake.” His face was a mask of concern for Willow.

Xander wasn’t having any of it. Anya was so right. And if he saw Cordelia… he wanted Anya to break her feet so badly she’d never wear a pair of designer shoes again. “Oh, she’s awake, buddy. And she’ll see us.”

A brief nod was Angel’s answer before he turned and went back to the nursery, grinding his teeth as he did. His words were brief as he explained what was happening to Willow with as little emotion or sentiment as possible. “He and Anya insist on seeing you.”

All sorts of emotions had been coursing through Willow’s mind as she had waited for Angel’s return. She trembled slightly, not sure which of them she was feeling right now. While she wanted to stay here, for Spike’s sake, and this visit complicated that, she was also touched that Xander cared enough to come see her. The fact that he was so concerned meant a lot to her. For a long time she’d been scared, deep down, that their friendship was no longer anything real, that it was just something they talked about now. But maybe she had been wrong; maybe they really were the last two Musketeers,

If that were true, what Willow was about to do might kill something that wasn’t already dead after all. She had no choice, though, did she? And it wasn’t as if they’d believe she’d never been a junkie anyway. No, they’d just see the truth as a desperate ploy by an unregenerate addict. Lying was her only option no matter what.

It wasn’t such a bad thing that she looked terrible today. All the better to fit the part.

So she took one last look at the little boy in his crib and let Angel guide her down to the lobby, hoping she wasn’t overplaying the ‘worn down magic junkie’ role as she leaned on him slightly. Acting had never been her career goal. “Hey, Xan. Anya.”

Whatever Xander’s hopes had been, they were dashed when he saw his best friend’s face. She looked horrible – as bad as she’d looked that last day in Sunnydale. And the way she was hanging onto Angel… It made him sick to his stomach. That creep hadn’t been lying and Xander hated him more than ever for that. He was supposed to fix Willow, make her better so she could come home. Feeling Anya’s hand on his arm, he fought the urge to lean against her the way Willow was leaning on that bastard of a vampire, but oh God was he glad she was here. “It’s good to see you.”

That would have sounded better if he hadn’t choked on the words.

Spike felt awful – too many nights of playing Russian Roulette with whiskey had finally caught up with him. What he needed was a bit of the hair of the dog, but wouldn’t you know he was out of so much as a whisker. He figured that heading downstairs to raid the company stash was a good plan, so he left his room to do just that.

There were voices coming from the lobby and, even in his condition, Spike recognized them all. What do you know – Doughnut Boy and Demon Girl had come a-calling. Bloody hell. This could not be good.

If he ended up being carted back to Sunnyhell by that pair…

He stayed at a safe distance and did some listening. Sadly, being so cautious cost him the complete audio experience, but he heard enough – enough to know that Willow was one crafty piece…but nowhere near as crafty as that thrice-damned sire of his.

Well, it was up to Spike to show that he was every bit the sneaky, lying wretch that either of them were. Time to join the game. “Willow?” he called out as he headed to the staircase. “There you are,” he said more softly as he hurried down the stairs. “What are you doing down here? You should be resting.” His face was a mask of concern as he walked up to her and caressed her cheek. Turning to the dynamic duo as if he was only now aware of their presence, he greeted them with “What are you lot doing here?”

“I wanted to see how Will was doing. Which I don’t need your permission to do, by the way,” Xander huffed. His next words were addressed to Willow herself. “Is there any way we could talk? You know, just us live people?” He was including Anya; how could he not include Anya?

“Umm…sure,” Willow replied, trying to hide her terror. She was going to have to keep lying without any back-up. But she couldn’t say no to Xander. Turning to Angel, she asked, “Can you guys just…”

Angel didn’t want to go – not the least of which because Xander’s snide remark left him disinclined to give the boy any satisfaction – but he knew that refusing would just create suspicion, so he said “Of course” and nodded for Spike to follow him out of the lobby. After all, they could eavesdrop if they liked.

He watched as Anya and Xander followed Willow over to the plush red sofa. Then he and Spike walked the rest of the way upstairs and out of sight of the trio.

“Think they’ll talk Red into going back?” Spike asked softly once they were out of human earshot.

“No.” One word spoken with utter confidence, sincere confidence.

“That certain of your kissing skills, huh?” Spike smirked, enjoying the wounded look on Angel’s face. Served the bastard right. Remembering the taste of his sire on Willow’s lips made his gut clench all over again. It was only fair for Angel to feel a bit of pain.

Recovery came quickly, however. “Jealous?” This time Angel was the one who smirked, slow and cocky and so much like his demon.

Spike pulled his own demon to the fore and turned it around. “She’s not bad, I’ll give you that. The chit knows what to do with her tongue.” Take that, Angelus.

Time stood still for a moment as Spike’s words pierced Angel’s heart as surely as any stake. The boy wasn’t bluffing and Angel knew it. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, and how much right did he actually have to be hurt? Because he knew that Willow had feelings for his callow childe. Still, it was painful anyway, knowing that she’d left his arms and gone straight to Spike.

Without another word, and not worrying about conceding defeat, Angel walked away. He needed to see his son. There he would find comfort and solace. And with Connor, after all, he would be reminded of the special time he and Willow had shared this morning. In the nursery lay the balm for his wounds.

Spike watched as Angel turned his back on him without so much as a single retort. Just like him, wasn’t it? Suddenly uninterested in spying on Willow’s pow-wow with her pals, Spike headed back to his room. He couldn’t wait for darkness. He needed to get out of this place and think.

Tbc…


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirteen)

It had been hours since Xander and Anya had left the hotel and Willow was still in her room. What with all the time that had passed and Willow’s unsettled emotional state even prior to the meeting, Angel was beginning to worry.

Well, to be entirely honest, Angel had been anxious since the moment he’d seen Willow’s tearful retreat to her room and heard the doors to the hotel close behind her departing friends. Still and all, he’d decided she ought to have some privacy to deal with the feelings she must be going through, so he’d given it to her.

He had expected, however, that she would come out of her room before now. Since she hadn’t, there was nothing he could do but knock on her door and see for himself what sort of condition she was in. Patience was no longer in his possession.

“Willow?” He tried to keep from sounding too concerned.

A voice thick with spent tears responded. “Come in.”

So he did.

She looked worse than he’d ever seen her – eyes red-rimmed and swollen, her skin blotchy and shiny with tearstains. “I lied to them. Xander and Anya. I lied to them.” Angel closed the door behind him as she spoke. She might have been talking to him or to no one at all.

There didn’t seem to be a good response either, if she expected one, which he was hardly sure she did. He could say she had no choice, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth. He could tell her she’d done what needed to be done, but while that would describe _his_ actions, he could not honestly say it described hers, no matter how fondly he might wish it did.

All he could do was wait and see what she’d say next.

“Xander’s my best friend.” Even as she said it, Willow wasn’t at all sure that she wasn’t still lying. Best friends didn’t lie to each other, did they? Although Xander had lied to her lots of times in the past, so maybe they did. Maybe a morning of prevarication hadn’t set a match to the bridge back to her life after all.

Angel stayed silent.

On the one hand, Willow sort of appreciated the fact that he wasn’t offering platitudes or peppering her with questions, but on the other hand…

Long ago, with Oz, she hadn’t minded the quiet moments, but now? Now silence was silence and it left her with too much confusion.

“I pretty much made it impossible to ever tell them the truth,” she offered. It was more than she’d meant to reveal, but she was too discomfitted by Angel’s taciturn manner to be discreet.

What she wanted him to say to that, Angel didn’t know, but the time had come for him to say something, even if it was the wrong thing. “You couldn’t have told them anyway. They’re wedded to the addiction idea.”

She was staring at him now, though her eyes were too puffy from crying to go wide as they were wont to do. “I know.” The words were said softly, but they were a shock and the impact was great. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better about lying.”

It was strange, but what she’d just said brought her more sharply into focus than ever for him. He saw the pieces of who she was years ago and the changes she’d undergone and it all blended together into the whole of who she was today. Something told him he’d seen this before; he just hadn’t realized it until this moment.

Now he knew why he hadn’t fallen in love with her years ago. Now he knew why he loved her today.

Amazing how much more beautiful glass could be once it had shattered, how much more alluring damage was than pristine perfection.

“It never feels good to lie,” he said at last. Of course, he wasn’t altogether sure he wasn’t lying when he said that. It wasn’t as if lying to Buffy had felt wrong at all. What felt wrong was that it should have.

None of the books Willow had ever encountered were as hard to read as Angel was; she decided to stop trying, to just take him at his word. After all, it was entirely possible that she was trying too hard to see things that weren’t there. While he might be a demon, he wasn’t Spike.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? At least for her.

But for all that, it still felt good when he sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

“What did they say?” Angel asked after a moment or two. He could hardly help being curious, could he?

“Anya’s sad that I can’t be in the wedding.” The wistful smile on Willow’s face when she spoke… he found himself almost liking Xander’s fiancée.

“I’m sorry.” He supposed he was, in a way.

She shrugged but said nothing. She was desperately uncomfortable now. More conversation on this topic would lead them straight into the minefield of why she was here – and it wasn’t anything she wanted to admit out loud, not in so many words. What was she supposed to say: ‘I love Spike so much that I am staying here and lying to all my friends just so he can have a chance with you even though you want me’?

A minute or so passed and Angel said, “I’m glad you’re staying.” If only he were simply being kind.

The emotional rollercoaster she’d been on today finally caught up with her. Without thinking about the fact that what she was doing might encourage his feelings for her, she laid her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

“Why should we tell her anything?”

That was probably a good question, and Xander really had no answer except maybe for ‘because’, which wasn’t really an answer, but he still felt that Tara needed to know about their visit to Willow, even if he wasn’t sure why. “I just think she deserves to know.”

Anya said nothing else as they reached the door of the Magic Box, but her mouth was in a tight pout and Xander knew that never boded well. He had a feeling he was in for it later. So be it, he decided. Tara would hear about what was going on with Willow.

He held the door open for Anya, then followed her in. Tara was standing behind the counter. “Y-you’re b-back already?” She seemed puzzled and Xander understood that. They hadn’t been gone nearly as long as they – or the others – had figured they would be.

“Is Buffy here?” Might as well get this over with. And hey, there was no way Anya would break off their engagement – they’d already put down deposits on the reception hall and the caterer.

“No.” Tara was nervous. What was going on? Why had they come back so soon? And why did Xander seem so anxious about Buffy?

Anya immediately jumped in, having come to the conclusion that it was her duty as an almost-wife to support her almost-husband, even if he was making a stupid mistake. “We weren’t in San Francisco. We went to see Willow.”

The ground gave way beneath Tara’s feet and she closed her eyes tight; she felt the world whiz by as she fell, only realizing it was a trick of emotion when she didn’t crash hard into the earth. She opened her eyes – the counter was in front of her and Xander and Anya just beyond. “H-how is…”

“How is she?” Anya finished for her. “Well, she’s still a junkie, apparently, and she doesn’t look very good. And she won’t be in the wedding.” There was more Anya wanted to say, but it was all such a complicated mess in her head. She hated Tara right now, for not being a good enough girlfriend to keep this from happening to Willow, but she hated herself, too – because she’d been wrong and Angel hadn’t been lying and she’d gotten Xander’s hopes up for nothing. Plus, she felt sad about what Willow was going through.

She’d forgotten the bad part about having friends; that it could hurt and be awful. At times like this, she remembered why she’d been so eager to become a demon.

Then Xander put his arm around her and it wasn’t quite so terrible being human after all – until she thought about Willow again.

Tara just stood where she was, trying to make sense of what she was feeling. It wasn’t as if Xander and Anya were telling her anything she hadn’t known, after all, so why did she feel even worse now than she had when Buffy had first broken the bad news?

It was guilt, she realized. Xander and Anya had gone to Los Angeles to see Willow themselves and Tara hadn’t. There were reasons for that – like the problems in their relationship, her belief that they both needed space, the fact that she still used magic and was worried that Willow would feel it and it would affect her recovery – but no matter how good the reasons were, it didn’t change the fact that she felt as if she’d failed the girl she loved. “S-she’s doing that badly?” she asked at last.

“I… Yeah, she is,” Xander replied, trying to soften the blow with a gentler tone than that used by his fiancée. “We were really hoping Deadboy had been exaggerating…”

“But he wasn’t.” The look in Tara’s eyes made Xander question his wisdom in deciding to tell her.

“No, but at least Spike is taking care of her,” Anya interjected, wondering if she meant to reassure Tara or make her feel worse by saying that.

“S-Spike?” Tara remembered Dawn mentioning that very thing. It was becoming unnerving all over again.

“It’s kind of bizarre, actually, but he seems to be doing a good job of watching over her.” Xander hoped his words would make Tara feel better, but she still looked stricken. “She knows you love her.” That last was said softly, the better to fake sincerity. The truth was, he had been so caught up in his own concerns with Willow that he hadn’t even mentioned Tara today. Oddly, he just now realized that Willow hadn’t asked about her either.

Was it just him or was Willow’s relationship with Spike suddenly taking on a whole other – and much more disturbing – connotation?

‘Boyfriend’, ‘taking care of her’, ‘a good job of watching over her’ – all of those words were swirling through Tara’s mind, reviving the fears she’d pushed down when she’d talked to Dawn. She came to a decision. Willow was in a weakened, desperate state and Spike was a demon – a soulless one at that. How could anyone believe he was altruistically tending to Willow? For all she knew, Spike was doing something to hinder Willow’s recovery. If for no other reason than to save her girl from being preyed upon when she was vulnerable, it was time for Tara to go to Los Angeles. She’d deal with all the other issues when she got there.

“Since you g-guys are back, is it okay if I go home now?” Xander’s answer in the affirmative was all the impetus she needed to gather her things and head out the door. She was too overwrought to leave right now, and besides, she needed to arrange for a rental car, but tomorrow morning, Angel Investigations was going to have another surprise visitor.

Xander watched as Tara left. “That went well.”

“She didn’t even thank us for checking on Willow or anything,” Anya huffed.

Xander said nothing at first, just pulling Anya close and kissing the top of her head. They were lucky, so much luckier than he’d ever realized before. “She doesn’t really have anything to thank us for.”

Anya didn’t argue; she just stayed nestled in the crook of Xander’s arm. It was good to have a boyfriend who was a plain, ordinary human. She was very lucky.

Angel had gone off to tend to Connor and the business and Willow had lain on her bed for what felt like days, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry anymore, when a knock at the door roused her from her miserable reverie. “Spike?”

“No,” came a decidedly feminine drawl, “It’s Fred.”

Fred? “Come in.” Willow got off the bed as her visitor entered. What could the girl want?

“Hi,” Fred greeted Willow as she entered the room. Funny how after all this time, she still felt so awkward talking to her. She sure hoped her plan would help fix that – and not just for her, but for everyone. “I was going shopping for the surprise party and I thought you might wanna come along and help.”

“Surprise party?” Willow was staring at her in confusion. Hadn’t Angel told her?

“Yeah. The surprise party for Cordelia’s birthday.” Fred felt terrible. Willow obviously didn’t know anything about it. She’d been here for weeks and yet she was still an outsider. That didn’t make a whole lot of sense, seeing as how they all owed her their lives. Heck, Gunn still talked about it; Fred had almost been sort of jealous about that. Guess there was no reason to be since it looked like he hadn’t made any effort to be Willow’s friend or anything. None of them had, she realized, not even when Willow was helping them on cases. “It was kind of a last minute idea,” she offered as a clumsy, afterthought type of alibi. “But when we realized she was turning twenty-one…”

Twenty-one? If memory served, Cordelia had turned twenty-one _last_ year, but Willow could have been wrong, and at any rate, it was pretty nice to be included. This might give her a chance to patch things up with her old nemesis. After all, how long could she be bitter about the fluke? She gave Fred the broadest grin she could muster. “It sounds like a great idea. I’d love to go party supply-shopping with you. Let me just go wash my face, okay?”

“Sure.” Fred sat down in the uncomfortable chair by the dresser and waited. Willow had seemed real excited about helping with the party and that made her happy. After all, it didn’t seem like Willow was going to be leaving anytime soon, so wouldn’t it be better if they could all be friends? It sure seemed that way to Fred. With any luck, Cordelia’s party would be a great chance for Willow to find her way into the group.

“Ready,” Willow caroled as she came out of the bathroom and grabbed her purse. “So, where are we headed to first?”

The daylight still surrounded the building like prison bars, trapping Spike within the decayed walls of the hotel. Bloody hell.

He’d gotten himself into one blasted mess, hadn’t he? Should have known it would happen, though. When was the last time a plan of his had worked? Especially when he brought the little witch into things.

It’d be nice if he could hate her, but really, how could you? She was innocent as snow if intent counted for anything, and Spike supposed it did. If only the silly chit hadn’t fallen for him. But then again, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be doing her best to play matchmaker for him and Peaches, now would she?

The kind of love Red was capable of feeling… it was something else.

But oddly, for the first time, Spike thought about the curse, really thought about it, and he wondered. He knew there was no way in creation that Willow would do a thing to jeopardize Angel’s soul, so why was she so willing to fix him up with the Poof? She knew damn good and well that Spike was not one for stopping at slap and tickle.

Was it because she didn’t think Spike had the goods to make Angel perfectly happy? No, couldn’t be that. Girl was in love with him, now wasn’t she? Stood to reason that she thought he was more than enough to make someone happy. So why wasn’t she concerned?

It occurred to him that all he knew about the curse, really, had come from Angel (well, there’d been Dru’s cryptic nonsense, but it wasn’t like he understood a word of that). But just because Angel was the one who’d been cursed, that didn’t make him an expert on the ins and outs of it. No, that honour had to go to a certain little witch – the witch who’d performed that very curse herself.

There had to be more to the curse than just a moment of happiness detaching that soul and sending it flying off hell knew where. Sometime very soon, he and Red were going to have a little chat about Gypsy magic.

Now Spike found that he was actually grateful for the daylight that had forced him to stay right here for that thinking he’d been so keen to do. Because here was where the answers had been all along – the answers that would help him formulate a new, better plan. And this time, the plan would work just the way it should. Count on that.

Tbc…


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Fourteen)

If Willow had learned anything in life, she’d learned that surprise parties always led to badness. Why hadn’t she passed that knowledge on to Fred and the others?

She stared at Cordelia, who looked strangely unpeaceful as she lay comatose on the bed just feet away from where Connor cooed obliviously in his crib.

“I can’t believe she never said anything. CAT scans, MRI’s…and she never told us about any of it.” Willow put her hand on Angel’s shoulder as he sat by the bed, trying to comfort him. He looked up at her and smiled softly. “Thanks for staying.” Unsure if he meant in the room or in Los Angeles, she said nothing, merely giving him a small smile in return.

Within seconds, they were joined by Lorne.

“Knock, knock,” he said, his voice so much less spirited than usual. It brought home the gravity of the situation. “How is she?”

“Pretty much the same.” Willow felt awful for him; it was obvious that he cared so much for Cordelia.

Lorne gazed at the girl on the bed, barely noticing anything else. There had to be something they could do, right? Angel’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He sat down next to Cordelia’s still form. “I sort of wish I’d brought my helmet. Last time I did this, I got blown across the room.” Of course, he’d gladly be blown across a dozen rooms if it would help, but sentiment wasn’t really his forté, now was it? Instead of saying anything more, he placed his hands on her forehead and… “Cordelia?” He rubbed her temples, trying to reach out to her soul. “Are you there?”

Angel watched helplessly as Lorne fruitlessly tried to reach Cordelia. The guilt he felt right now was overwhelming. Her visions had done this to her – the visions she had been given for _his_ fight against evil, _his_ redemption. She was his friend, she might be dying, and it seemed as if there was nothing he could do.

“Cordelia’s not in there. She’s just gone.” Lorne looked utterly hopeless and Willow couldn’t understand. She felt…something…in the air around her. While she wasn’t sure at first, who else could it be but Cordelia? But even if by some slim chance it wasn’t, she knew Cordelia wasn’t gone. Frankly, she was positive Cordelia would never let herself die wearing that beat-up sweatshirt.

“Guys,” she said, breaking the silence that had held since Lorne’s dire pronouncement, “I don’t think she’s gone. I think…I think she’s here. She’s just not in her body right now.”

What? Angel couldn’t quite believe his ears. “She’s not gone,” Willow repeated, quietly but firmly. Normally, Angel would take Lorne’s word for things, but Willow…she was powerful, powerful to a degree unlike anything Angel had ever seen before. If she said Cordelia was here, then Cordelia was here.

“Are you sure?” he asked, watching her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “I can feel her presence.”

Of course, what Willow didn’t mention was that she now felt more than one presence in the room. She just hoped it wasn’t Death or anything. Angel and Lorne were looking at her with so much hope…the last thing she wanted was to have given them that only to have to snatch it away.

That task seemed to be reserved for someone else. Wesley now walked in wearing a very grave expression. “Fred’s been looking at Cordy’s most recent CAT scan and…the news isn’t good. The test shows widespread neuroelectrical deterioration.”

Oh goddess! “She’s not…”

“She’s dying,” Angel said softly, what little colour normally there draining from his face. He got up and began pacing the room.

No. This wasn’t happening, wasn’t _going_ to happen. Not if Willow had anything to say about it. Okay, maybe she and Cordelia had never been best friends, but she couldn’t let the girl die, not now, not on her birthday. “Wesley? You said my magic was given to me for some higher purpose.” The one-time Watcher simply stared. “This qualifies, right? No way would this be misusing my gift.” With that, she plunked herself down in the chair Angel had recently vacated.

She took Cordelia’s hand, but realized quickly that she’d never establish a connection that way. Instead, she leaned forward, put her hand over where Cordelia’s heart still beat faintly in her chest and…

“Okay, I know you’re bi and all, and so help me if you are using this as an excuse to cop a feel, I will…”

“Cordelia!”

“You can hear me?” She could scarcely believe it. Out of everyone in the room, _Willow_ was the one Cordelia could actually get through to? Someone up there had a screwy sense of humour. “Look. First things first. You have to get to 171 Oak Street in Reseda. There’s a girl in serious danger from a really gross demon, okay?”

Willow suddenly saw Cordelia in a brand new light. There was something really admirable about the fact that her first concern right now wasn’t herself. Having found herself disembodied, Willow would hardly have blamed the woman for being focused on her own predicament. She turned to the others, who she realized were staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Guys, she’s here. And she just told me that we have to go to 171 Oak Street immediately. It’s in Reseda. There’s a girl there who’ll get killed by a demon unless we stop it.”

The three men looked at each other in confusion and amazement. But since this gibed with what he and Wesley had heard Cordelia say before her collapse, Angel just knew it came from her vision. “Wesley, take Gunn and Spike and go to Reseda. You guys can handle it, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course, but…”

“Do it.” Angel’s tone brooked no argument and none was forthcoming. He watched with grim satisfaction as Wesley followed his direction and hurried from the room. Then he turned back to Willow. “Did Cordelia tell you what happened to her?”

That was a really good question. Willow had been so caught up in both thinking about what Wesley had said and the conversation between him and Angel that she’d lost her connection to Cordelia. Placing her hand over the seer’s heart again, she was taken aback when she realized that, indeed, there was more than one unseen being in this room.

“Cordelia? Who’s with you?”

“Thanks for deciding to talk to me again,” she replied. Willow couldn’t miss the sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I was just telling everyone what you told me and…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You can hear us?”

“Hear you and see you.”

“Oh!” She had known Cordelia could hear _her_, but the fact that she could see and hear everything that was going was news. This was good, actually. Pretty standard astral projection. This was something Willow could fix easily. But then there was that brain damage... An idea came to her. It would work, she was almost sure of it. “I have an idea about how to get you fixed up, but I need to get you back in your body first.”

“That’s interesting, because Skip here says I’m dying and he says there’s no way to heal me.” As much as Cordelia hated the idea that her life might be over, she had to admit, the demon beside her seemed to know his stuff. Dying on her birthday… It was only the knowledge that Willow would hear her if she cried that kept her from doing just that.

“Skip? You’re taking the word of somebody named Skip over mine?” And now Willow was the one who seemed to have a good point. But could Cordelia trust her? It wasn’t as if Willow had been a source of a whole lot of good in her experience. On the other hand, why should she trust a stranger? A stranger with a name like Skip? Especially since at least Willow usually meant well… even if she had a tendency to do things like get Cordelia impaled. Okay, that last thought was not a helpful one.

“Before I just let you play around with my life, any chance you’d like to clue me in on what you’re going to do?”

Willow should have known Cordelia wouldn’t trust her. But what to say and how to explain… “Look, we don’t have a whole ton of time, but it’s just like this thing I did for Buffy once. Really, I’m a total pro at this, I promise.” Please let lying be as successful a tactic with Cordelia as it had been with Xander and Anya. This wasn’t anything like what she’d done to reach Buffy. She could do this, though; she knew she could do this.

Cordelia thought, and then thought again. Skip was impatient; Willow was impatient. She had to make a choice and she had to make it now. After looking first at Skip and then at Willow, she closed her eyes and made her decision. As hard as it was, she was sure it was the right one. “Sorry, dark and scary guy, but I’m going back to my body.”

Willow felt Cordelia let her in, and so she reached out with her mind and…pulled. There was a rush of energy that blew through her and then into Cordelia’s body, which twitched violently. Everyone noticed, and even Angel drew a deep breath.

“Wow.” Lorne had to admit he was impressed – and grateful. Maybe the Powers weren’t so wrong for bringing Willow here after all. “You did it.” Later on, though, he had to ask her about Skip.

“Not all of it, actually. Getting her back into her body? That was the easy part. Now I have to fix it so she can stay there.” There was also the matter of the extra energy she was sure to need. As much as a part of her wanted to choose Lorne, she didn’t know him well, had no connection to him, and spells went better when… “Angel, mind if I borrow some energy for this part?”

Still awed by what Willow had just done, all Angel could do was nod. The love he felt for her seemed to grow stronger. She was the most amazing creature… He couldn’t find words, instead, he stood beside her and took her hand.

“Thanks,” she said, overwhelmed by what she saw in his eyes, “Now let’s get to work.” With that, she placed her other hand on Cordelia’s forehead. The task was not going to be easy.

Cautiously, Tara made her way through the deserted lobby of the Hyperion. Was this a good idea? She wasn’t so sure now. A sense of foreboding had come over her since she’d walked in the door. But she was here, and there was no point in having come here if she turned around and went home without seeing Willow.

What if her fears were right, though? What if something was going on between Willow and Spike?

“H-hello?” she called out. She waited, but there was no answer. Then she heard noise from upstairs. She decided to investigate. After all, she had to find Willow.

The brain Willow was moving through with her magic was in terrible shape. She might not be a doctor, but she knew enough to be amazed that Cordelia had even been able to function at all for a good long time prior to today’s collapse. The pain she suffered must have been excruciating. Again, she found herself seeing Cordelia in a very different light. This was no longer the shallow, self-obsessed girl she’d known in high school. Somehow that fashion-worshipping cheerleader had grown into a brave, strong woman who cared deeply about the duty with which her visions had invested her.

Willow’s fingers gently skimmed across the skin of Cordelia’s forehead as she worked, repairing cell after cell after damaged cell; occasionally, a thought or a memory would transfer, but only those directed at Willow, so she had felt only minimal discomfort at unintentionally invading Cordelia’s privacy. Nothing she’d been privy to had been unknown to her…

Until now. Oh goddess. She’d thought Cordelia’s resentment towards her had been residual anger over what had happened with Xander along with the simple fact that – well – they’d never gotten along in the first place. She’d had no idea that… Oh no.

Cordelia was in love with Angel.

Suddenly it all made much more sense and Willow’s heart ached. One more person added to the list of those she’d hurt and wronged. She hoped with all her heart that what she was doing right now would make things up to Cordelia.

Now was not the time for worrying about personal grievances, however. Clearing her mind, Willow got back in tune with the magical forces she was using, healing energy flowing from her into Cordelia. A soft glow seemed to envelop the girl – it was working! The goddess was blessing her. This was right, pure and right. What Wesley had told her had been true – Willow’s magic was a gift and she was able to do good with it. A profound spiritual joy filled her as her task neared completion. Taking Angel’s hand, she borrowed the last bit of strength she needed and…

“Oh my God!”

Tara? What was Tara doing here?

“I can’t believe you’re…y-you’re using magic.”More than anything, Tara wished with all her heart that she had stayed home – home, where she could believe that Willow was at least trying to fight her addiction. She stared at the two…men with Willow. “How could you? You were s-supposed to be h-helping her. And instead you’re…”

“Tara, wait. I can explain…” Willow leapt from her chair, intent on going to her. But at that precise moment, Cordelia’s body seized violently and then she screamed.

So much for Willow’s chance to explain. What just happened had been enough to send Tara fleeing from the room.

What should she do? She wanted so badly to run after her one-time lover, to at least try to make her understand, to stop her from going back to Sunnydale with all the wrong ideas, to keep her from hating Willow…and giving that hate to everyone else Willow loved. But how could she leave Cordelia right now? Willow burst into tears.

“Go,” Angel said softly as Cordelia suddenly sat up. It was easy to see that Willow’s work was finished – easy to feel it was well. As much as he feared what would happen with Tara, Angel knew this was something Willow had to deal with.

Willow whispered a thank you and, with one last look at Cordelia, she dashed out of the room in pursuit of Tara.

“What just happened?” Cordelia asked in confusion as she watched Willow run away.

“Tara!” she called out as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Wait! Please!”

Blonde hair whipped around and Willow found herself staring into eyes full of pain and betrayal. “W-why? So you can lie to me? The way y-you did to Anya and Xander?”

“I know you’re angry and you have a right to be. But if you’ll just listen, I can explain. I had to use magic, okay? Cordelia was dying. Her visions? They were killing her and I couldn’t let that happen.” Willow was pleading now. Tara had to understand. Maybe she didn’t love her girl anymore, but there was still a piece of her heart that would always be hers and she didn’t want Tara to hate her. She tried not to think about her other motives – the selfish part of her that feared what Tara could do to ruin any chance Willow ever had to return to Sunnydale. If she did, where would Willow go once Angel fell in love with Spike?

“You just can’t stop inter-f-fering in the order of things, can you? First Buffy, now Cordelia? Willow, people die, and it hurts, but it’s supposed to be that way. You can’t just keep changing the rules, using magic to alter the world any time you f-feel like it.”

“So let me get this straight, you think Willow should have just let me die? On my _birthday_?” Cordelia’s voice startled them both. “To hell with all the good I do and all the lives I save and all the shoes I have yet to wear? No wonder Willow dumped you.”

“Cordelia.” Angel was now coming down the stairs just behind his seer.

“Sorry,” Cordelia responded. “Oh wait. I’m not. Did you hear what she said?”

Angel ignored her outburst, instead walking up to Willow and putting his hand on her arm. “Are you alright?”

This had been a mistake; maybe the biggest mistake Tara had ever made. Standing here, surrounded by people who were encouraging Willow in her addiction…and okay, yes, she could understand wanting to save someone’s life, but it shouldn’t have been Willow. That’s what she’d meant to say. So why had it come out wrong? She felt lost and afraid. Watching the way Angel was touching her love – _her_ love – it was disturbing. Maybe she hadn’t needed to worry about Spike.

She was confused and upset and in pain. “I-I need to go home,” she said after a long moment of staring at the way Angel’s fingers caressed Willow’s arm.

“Tara, no, please.” Willow broke away from Angel. “We need to talk. I promise you, once I explain, you’ll understand. I’ve learned stuff – Wesley’s found out things about my magic, and…”

Tara stopped her. “I can’t right now. I w-won’t tell anyone about this, okay? Not yet. I just…I have to think.” Tears were springing to her eyes. She’d let Willow explain, just not today. She couldn’t handle anything more right now. She made a spur of the moment decision. “I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”

Nodding sadly, Willow said, “Okay. I’ll be here.”

For a moment, Tara thought of reaching out to touch her, but she decided against it, instead turning and walking out of the hotel. As she got into her car, she wondered if she was making another mistake. There was no point in worrying about that though, because if this was a mistake… she was still going to make it. Besides, she owed it to Willow to give her a chance to explain. She pulled away from the curb. There was a motel nearby – at least she was pretty sure she’d seen one. Tomorrow she’d come back…

Tomorrow.

  
Tbc...


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Fifteen)

Three figures stood out in the cold next to a black car.

“Willow and I need to talk.” Cordelia’s tone was sharp and brooked no argument. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get one.

“Why can’t you talk inside?”

“Hello? Willow just brought me back from the nearly-dead _and_ it’s my birthday. There’s a whole bunch of people in that lobby who are going to surround us and shower me with relief and joy and the gifts I never got the chance to open earlier. I’ll be busy with that for hours. Willow, on the other hand, is almost ready to collapse. If we don’t talk now, we won’t get the chance to talk for days. This won’t wait. So go inside, do all the explaining and the sharing-the-boring-details-that-I-don’t-remember-because-I-was-in-a-coma stuff, and we’ll be inside in just a couple of minutes.”

Angel looked at Willow for signs that she wanted to be rescued, but she merely shrugged weakly and he thought it might be all right to let the girls talk. He was worried about Willow, though. She looked almost as worn down as she had after defeating the creatures who’d come after his son. “Are you sure?” he asked her softly.

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t and she knew anyone with ears could tell that by the sound of her voice, but there was no harm in trying. “We’ll just be a minute, right, Cordelia?”

Much to Willow’s surprise, all Cordelia did was nod.

“Okay. But I’ll be right inside.” What he didn’t add were the words ‘in case she passes out’, for which Willow was grateful. She hated being reminded of her own weakness. If she were such a great and important witch, she shouldn’t be so wrung out.

Both women watched as Angel disappeared from view.

“Thank you.” It was unexpectedly brief, but Willow wasn’t sure she’d ever heard as much from Cordelia all the same. She’d put more meaning into those two words…

“You’re…”

Cordelia help up her hand to stop her in the middle of her reply. “Look, if I let you talk, you’ll use up what little energy you have left and I have stuff I need to say. I know I gave you kind of a hard time and…well…I’m sorry.” She read the look on Willow’s face and quickly added, “Don’t ask me to repeat it.” There was a pause, but happily, Willow stayed quiet. That was good because she wasn’t done talking. “You saved my life. And the whole ‘pain-free vision’ thing is pretty cool, too. So… What I’m trying to say is that… We’re friends now. Okay?” There was more she could have said, more she _wanted_ to say, but she had no idea how to be that vulnerable with Willow. If she were honest, she didn’t know how to be that vulnerable with _anyone_. Maybe if she’d figured that out, she wouldn’t be watching the girl who saved her life walking off with the one man Cordelia wanted to share it with.

If she’d never known what irony was before…

How was Willow supposed to respond? Cordelia Chase had apologized and Willow knew what that must have cost her. If anyone knew the nuances of romantic attraction… Cordelia had known before anyone what Angel felt and Willow was sure of that. And tonight, the girl who loved him was calling her ‘friend’.

Today she’d found more reasons than she’d ever known existed to respect her onetime enemy and she wasn’t sure what to do now. She knew one thing, however – not tonight and not ever would she tell Cordelia what she’d accidentally stumbled upon inside her mind. The girl had sacrificed too much of her pride already.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” She reached out and put her arms around Cordelia. At this moment, a hug was better than words; Willow couldn’t trust herself to find the right ones, anyway.

Cordelia hugged her back, letting Willow lean into her, giving her the same sincere affection she was being given even while her mind reeled as she absorbed what had really happened to her today.

She wasn’t sure even now why she had trusted Willow at all. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known Willow was lying through her teeth when she said she’d done something just like it before. But Cordelia had known somehow that Willow was telling the absolute truth when she’d said she could save her, when she’d _promised_ that she was a pro at the necessary magic.

You sort of _had_ to let go of any grudges, no matter how big or important or really, truly legitimate they were when someone saved you like Willow had done, didn’t you? Especially after that last vision of the boy in Glendale hadn’t so much as made Cordelia’s temples throb.

Seconds later, however, Cordelia was distracted by the feeling of dead weight pulling her down. Willow had completely collapsed. After awkwardly laying the now unconscious girl on the ground, she rushed to get some help. Willow was not going to make it into the hotel under her own power.

Angel was telling the story of Willow’s magical prowess for either the third or fourth time when the sound of running feet followed by the appearance of the seer they were attached to interrupted him. Seeing her unaccompanied, he didn’t even wait for Cordelia’s explanation before rushing out to the car. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“I don’t need your help, Spike.”

“Wanted to make sure Red was all right. I don’t need your permission for that, Peaches.”

Angel didn’t bother replying as he gathered Willow into his arms. Typical, wasn’t it? To Spike it seemed as if he was always easy to ignore. He felt like William again – and that was not a good feeling. All he could do was watch as his sire cradled Willow like she was something infinitely precious. Guess she was at that, seeing as how she’d just saved Angel’s airheaded seer and all, but it still stung, mostly because Angel would have held the girl that way no matter what she’d done.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s drained from all the magic she used, but I think she’s all right.” The sound of her heartbeat was strong and steady and Angel felt confident that he was telling the truth. He cuddled her close, relishing the feel of her soft, warm body against him. There was an intimacy between them now that even Spike’s presence and her own unconsciousness couldn’t spoil.

It could, however, be spoiled by a horde, and that’s just what happened.

“Is she okay?” The question Angel had just posed was now asked by what seemed to be a hundred voices at once.

Spike stepped in to answer. “Yeah, she just did a number on herself saving the cheerleader’s life today, that’s all. She’ll be right as rain in a day or so.” His tone clearly conveyed that he held the cause for which she’d sacrificed herself in more than a bit of contempt.

“Good,” Cordelia breathed. That was a relief. She brushed aside Spike’s attitude; it wasn’t as if he mattered.

“She’s somethin’ else,” Gunn said. Maybe that wasn’t the most relevant observation, but it needed to be said. All this time with vamps and demons and he’d still never seen anything like the redhead Angel was holding. Even out cold, she still seemed powerful to him. She saved lives without any weapons he could see. That was impressive – and important. She had his respect for sure. And from the look on Angel’s face, he figured she might have something more, too, not that it was any of his business.

“Need any help getting her inside?” Gunn asked with a barely-suppressed smirk. He was only trying to needle Angel a bit, but out of the corner of his eye he caught…hell yeah! Was that jealousy he saw on Fred’s pretty face? Looked like Cordelia being saved wasn’t the only thing to cheer about today.

“No thanks, Charles,” Angel answered, scanning the man’s face for any sign that his interest in Willow went beyond the respect he knew his cohort had for her magical abilities. Satisfied that there was nothing there, he fractionally relaxed and moved to carry Willow into the hotel. After a moment, the milling throng parted and he was able to do that without knocking anyone down. He was tempted to take her to his room, but he knew that she probably wouldn’t appreciate waking up there, so instead, he took her up to her own.

It was late at night and Xander was lying in bed, absently stroking Anya’s hair as she snored softly beside him.

Tara was missing. Well, maybe not missing so much as not where anyone expected her to be, but that was pretty much the same thing, wasn’t it? It had been her turn to stay with Dawn tonight, but she hadn’t shown and Xander and Anya had been forced to rush over instead.

Did this have anything to do with what he and Anya had told her yesterday? Could she have gone to Los Angeles herself?

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Xander nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Anya’s voice.

“I was just thinking.”

“Well stop it and go to sleep.” Anya was, as ever, the voice of reason and possessed of a logic all her own.

“I can’t.”

That meant he was thinking about Willow. She was the only thing that ever kept Xander awake – besides sex, that is. She wondered if he thought the same thing she did: that Tara had gone to see Willow.

“She’s probably worried that Willow’s having orgasms with Spike.”

Okay, that was so not an image Xander needed to have. It was actually scarier than the fact that it seemed that Anya could sort of read his mind. “You think Tara went to Angel’s?” He didn’t even acknowledge her mention of Spike.

“Of course. Where else could she be? It’s not as if she has a life or anything. Babysitting Dawn is as much excitement as she gets since she screwed up being Willow’s girlfriend.”

As much as a part of Xander wanted so badly to agree with Anya, the mature man within insisted on defending Tara. “It’s not her fault, you know.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

It was touching the way Anya didn’t blame Willow, but - strange as it seemed to him to feel this way - it still wasn’t fair to lay this all on Tara. “Sometimes bad things just happen, and they aren’t _anybody’s_ fault.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” As she said the words, she remembered Joyce dying. There wasn’t anyone they’d been able to blame for that. There should have been. Why wasn’t there?

“No, it doesn’t make sense. But that’s the way it is.”

Xander was right, of course, and that meant there was nothing more to say. So Anya stayed still and quiet and waited for him to sleep. She waited for a long time.

There wasn’t an unbroken piece of Spike’s heart left after all this time, but he could still feel a piece of it shatter watching the way Angel held Willow’s hand as she lay on her bed, blissfully unaware of it all.

“Quite a piece of work she did today.”

Angel turned his head at the sound of Spike’s voice. “Yes it was. She’s amazing.” He watched the pain flicker across Spike’s face. He’d feel badly except that some lessons were best learnt through suffering.

However, he hoped the boy wasn’t too ill-inlined towards him as a result. He had a favour to ask. “Tara was here today.”

“Thought I smelt that patchouli oil nonsense she wears hanging around the lobby.”

“She’s coming back tomorrow.” He paused for a moment before continuing. Might as well just be straight and brief. “She’s expecting to talk to Willow and…”

“The chit doesn’t trust you and you need me to handle things since Red’ll still be out of commision. That the size of it?” It was obvious Spike was enjoying this small victory.

Angel decided that he was more than happy to hand it to him. Crumbs to keep the starvation at bay, to tame the wolf at the door. What he wasn’t willing to do, however, was pretend he gave a damn what Tara thought of him. He shrugged. “More or less.”

“Should be a swell little reunion.” Spike was already thinking of the fun he could have, the little stilettos of word and gesture and nuance with which he could slice into her weak, timid spirit. He didn’t think for a moment about whether or not she deserved it. He was hurting, and that meant someone else was going into that painful place with him. It was all part of being a demon. And even with a chip in his head, he was every bit of one.

He headed for the door; no real need to stay here any longer. “I’ll be ready for her,” he said as he left. If he expected to hear a word in reply from Angel, he was disappointed. One more debt incurred by someone else but assessed against Tara’s account. Even without his bite, Spike could still draw blood.

Be it ever so dank and dismal, there’s no place like a vampire’s home.

Buffy shouldn’t be here. She should be at home with Dawn; Dawn, who was all alone in the house - no Buffy, no Tara, no Xander…no Willow. But Buffy hadn’t been able to help herself, hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t been able to stay at home. So here she was – Spike’s crypt.

It wasn’t the first time.

She could feel him here; she could feel how long he’d been gone.

Giving in to a need destined to go unfulfilled, she climbed down the ladder to his bed – the bed she’d never fucked him in. Just as she had on more nights than she wished she remembered, she curled up in a tight ball and wrapped herself in Spike’s sheets. Self-hatred and tears were the lullaby that soothed Buffy to the sleep she hadn’t found where she should.

“Knock, knock,” Lorne said, though he was already in the room. “I brought a visitor.” He cradled Connor in his arms.

Angel got up from his seat by the bed and went to Lorne, taking his son. “Thanks.” Expecting Lorne to leave, he turned back to Willow, but he was mistaken.

“What she did was pretty amazing, huh?”

That seemed to be everyone’s word for Willow. Angel nodded, though he wasn’t sure Lorne could tell from behind him.

“Have to say, I’m pretty glad she’s here. Not that I wasn’t before.” Lorne was nervous. Boy was it a good thing that his skin didn’t flush, though maybe that didn’t matter since Angel wasn’t looking at him.

“I’m glad, too.” Pretty tame words from a vampire in love.

“I think you’re a little more than glad, Angel-cakes.” And _that_ got him a face to face.

“So you know.”

“Afraid so.”

Angel stared, wondering if everyone knew. Maybe they did. What was wrong with that? It wasn’t as if loving Willow was something of which to be ashamed. Of course, there was the small matter of… “She doesn’t…”

“I know that, too.”

What Angel wanted to do was sing, to ask if Lorne saw anything, if he saw that things would change, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t. Besides, everyone knew the future wasn’t written in stone…or in music. “Guess you know all there is to know then.”

Lorne stayed as silent as Angel for a moment and now he was the one gazing at the girl on the bed. She’d saved Cordelia, and at greater risk than maybe she even knew. He owed her for that. But his loyalty would always be to Angel first. “The curse…it’s not all-powerful, you know.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed as he assessed Lorne, weighing his words, but without numbers on the scale. Before he could ask a question, Lorne left the room.

Damn him for his riddles and his cryptic aphorisms. It was almost as bad as talking to Drusilla. With Connor in his arms, however, Angel was hardly going to go chasing after the green bastard. Instead, he sat back down in the chair beside the bed, holding his son and watching Willow as she slept peacefully. He could almost feel the strength slowly returning to her, the magic weaving its way back through her bones.

He’d never forget what he’d seen today, just as he’d never forget the day she’d saved Connor. There were two sides he’d seen now of her power – the warrior and the healer. He loved them both, just as he loved the soft, fragile creature under his care right now, just as he loved the lost and damaged soul she was when she was none of the other.

‘The curse…it’s not all-powerful.’

The words echoed in Angel’s mind as he rocked his son and wondered what Willow was dreaming.

In a matter of hours, Tara would be here.

Tbc…


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Sixteen)

Tara piloted the rental car along the street until she finally spotted the Hyperion. It was later in the day than she’d intended to arrive, but she hadn’t found a motel that felt safe in the area and so she’d wound up in Pasadena for the night. Factor in the traffic – where were so many people going at ten in the morning? – along with her unfamiliarity with L.A. streets and it was past eleven by the time she was back.

The lobby was, as before, deserted, but yesterday had taught her that people – or something – were probably lurking about. “Hello?” she called out softly.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Glinda the Good Witch.” Spike’s voice came attached to the vampire himself, walking down the stairs. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I c-came to see Willow,” Tara said guardedly. She didn’t trust Spike.

“And here I thought you were here to see me. I’m wounded, really.” Spike sauntered slowly over to where Willow’s ex-witchlet was standing. While the scent of her nerves wasn’t as good as her fear would have been, it would do in a pinch. Human discomfort, human misery – anything desperate and awful that mortals could feel worked for him. “So what do you want with Red?” He decided to play it off as if he didn’t have a clue she’d been here the day before.

Tara hadn’t counted on Spike being around. What she was supposed to say to him or how to deal with him in these unfamiliar surroundings hadn’t occurred to her, although it was probably something she should have considered.

The best defense was a good offense, right? “W-where is she, Spike? I d-didn’t come here to talk to you.” If only she could have managed not to stutter. A person who stuttered never sounded forceful or authoritative.

Spike didn’t bother to suppress his chuckle. Never let it be said that the chip had made him something other than the Big Bad, because even with it messing with his fangs, he could still make Red’s ex-girltoy anxious and skittish as all get out. “Red’s still sleeping. She’s right worn out after last night.” And take that any way you like it, Glinda.

“Th-the magic.” Tara’s heart sank as she remembered what she’d walked in on.

“Well, if it isn’t the woman who wants me dead. How nice it _isn’t_ to see you again.” Cordelia emerged from the office, her voice sharp and tart as she glared daggers at Tara.

It was as if Tara were surrounded – as if this were an ambush. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t mean what? That it would be better if I died than for Willow to use magic? I hate to tell you this, but Willow fixed me up just fine and there’s nothing wrong with my memory. I was right here, in this room, when you said exactly that. So let’s cut the denial. Maybe Willow used to find the stuttering, hiding-behind-the-hair thing adorable, but I’m straight, and even if I weren’t, it wouldn’t do anything for me.” Cordelia snorted, call it a punctuation mark, and gave Tara a once-over full of contempt.

Spike, meanwhile, was torn between enjoying the show and being pissed off at the cheerleader for stepping right in the middle of his game. He decided to lean towards enjoying it because – hell – pain was pain, after all, and there was something to be said for a team effort. Remembering nights of torture with Angelus, his whole body hummed with longing.

He addressed Cordelia, turning at an angle that cut Tara from his eye line, “Did she really say that Red shouldn’t have whipped out the mojo to save your life?”

“Yes. Can you believe it? There I am – _dying_ – on my _birthday_ – and she thinks Willow should have just stood by and let it happen.”

Standing there, only a few scant feet from the other two occupants of the room, Tara felt utterly isolated and ignored. Spike and Cordelia were talking as if she weren’t there…or at least as if she didn’t matter. She summoned up all her nerve and made a stand for herself. “Look. I n-need to talk to Willow. Just t-tell me where she is, okay?” Her voice was louder than normal and it almost startled her.

Cordelia rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ll take you to her room, but she’s recuperating – you know, from _saving my life_ – so she might not be much for conversation right now.” She flounced towards the stairs, ignoring the nasty look Spike shot her. She didn’t like Tara any better than he did, but Willow would want to see her, so…

Tara followed Cordelia up the imposing staircase, her mind awhirl with thoughts. She hadn’t missed Spike’s innuendo, but he was just being cruel – wasn’t he? One thing she did know: this wasn’t Sunnydale. The people here didn’t see things the way they really were, didn’t understand her relationship with Willow, weren’t actually motivated to help Willow at all. She should never have listened to Buffy. This had been a terrible idea. But now, of course, it was too late.

Knocking softly, Cordelia was actually surprised to hear a groggy voice call out, “Come in.”

“Are you up to seeing Tara?” Cordelia said loudly through the door before she even opened it, deciding Willow deserved some advance warning. For all that she didn’t have a clue what Willow could have ever seen in this girl, the fact was, she knew that she _did_. This wasn’t easy for her at all and Cordelia had the grace to feel badly for her. She’d meant what she said last night – she and Willow were friends.

Instead of an answer, however, what Cordelia got was the turn of the doorknob followed by the opening of the door. Willow looked sleepy and disheveled and she was still wearing the clothes she’d worn last night, but she seemed conscious.

“Hey.” Willow looked past Cordelia and locked eyes with Tara. “You came back.”

Tara’s voice was soft and shy as she answered, “Yeah.”

“Don’t mind me,” Cordelia huffed, more at Tara than at Willow. “I’ll just leave you two to have it out.” And with that she headed back downstairs, where the Bleached Wonder was no doubt waiting. Oh goody.

Willow stepped back, too focused on Tara to even remember to answer until it was too late, so she didn’t respond to Cordelia’s parting shot; she merely watched as Tara walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She was just as beautiful as Willow remembered - but it wasn't the same.

A few weeks ago, being alone in a bedroom with Tara would have been a dream come true. Not now. Willow’s heart ached with the loss and for the pain she knew she’d be causing her girl. “I know you’re angry about the magic.” Might as well get right to the point of the visit.

“I j-just. I can’t believe you’d…”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I want you to just listen and keep an open mind. Tara, I...I’m not an addict. I’m not a junkie.”

Tara shook her head, tears filling her eyes. She should have expected that. Angel and his friends – they were enabling Willow. “That’s what y-you said when…”

“But it’s true. Wesley talked to a woman – she’s with a coven, a really powerful coven – and she says that what happened was because I misused my magic, profaned it. It’s a gift I’m supposed to use for good and so when I got selfish and used it for petty reasons and when I went to Rack…” Willow’s voice trailed off as she looked for some clue as to what Tara was thinking in those sweet, soft eyes she’d once known better than her own. “You have to believe me.” There was desperation in her voice; if only it were a desperation to hold onto her girl instead of onto her old home.

This was... Tara wasn't sure what this was. She looked into Willow's eyes and they shone with clarity and truth. This wasn't the same as when she'd been making promises and excuses back in Sunnydale. But just because Willow believed it, did that make it fact? Because if there was one thing Tara did _not_ believe in, it was the good intentions of these people here. Who knew what they wanted from her. Too, she'd seen something - something possessive and wrong - in the way Angel had acted towards Willow. Was she being paranoid? She didn't know, but right now, she didn't think so.

There was no point, though, in saying anything about her fears to Willow. To her, these people were her friends and she'd see Tara as someone who just didn't know them.

If only she hadn't gone the tough love route in the first place, first leaving Willow to her own devices, then letting Buffy send her right into the very maw of the dragon. If Wesley was being honest, surely that was something Tara would have figured out herself if she hadn't been so frightened of the way Willow was using her power.

Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe Tara could still fix things. She just had to figure out how.

“I-I want to believe you,” she said. It wasn't a lie.

Willow almost didn’t dare hope. “Really?”

And then Tara’s arms were around her and Willow felt the truth in Tara's embrace, even as she hated herself for not returning the love Tara so clearly still felt for her.

“I mean it," Tara said softly.

“Okay,” Willow answered as Tara let go. "Can you...?"

“I’m…I’m gonna go home." Perhaps if she left a trail of breadcrumbs, Willow would fine her own way back. "I won't say anything. Not right away. But, Willow. You h-have to tell them. Soon.”

“Okay.” Repetitive, but Willow couldn’t think of anything else to say. She was grateful and guilty and relieved and confused and she hated herself.

“I love you,” Tara said as she opened the door.

She couldn’t bear to offer anything but truth. “You’re my girl.” Three words she hoped could be mistaken for the three she couldn't say. Tara would need to know soon, but not today. She couldn't bear to break her heart today.

The door closed behind the departing form of her one-time lover. As the sound of footsteps faded away, Willow waited for the tears. They never came.

Getting out of the hotel without speaking to the twosome snarking at each other in the lobby had been easier than it should have been, but Tara was grateful. She didn’t want to talk to them. What she wanted to do was get back to Sunnydale and think and pray to the goddess and cry. Touching Willow again, holding her close for just those few brief moments. She felt her loneliness and loss more keenly than ever. Why had she ever allowed this to happen?

Tara had been gone long enough for Willow to take a shower and put on fresh clothes when another knock disturbed what she’d hoped would be some quiet time for meditation. Fighting the urge not to answer, to pretend that she’d gone back to sleep, she instead went and opened her door.

“Spike.” It wasn’t exactly a greeting, but it wasn’t _not_ a greeting either, she supposed.

The witch looked just a bit the worse for wear, he thought as he walked into her bedroom, but she was awake enough and Spike had decided his questions wouldn’t keep. Besides, he’d had enough of the bloody cheerleader to last an unlifetime and going back to his room to stew all alone wasn’t an appealing option.

“Wanted to talk to you, Red.”

Of course he had some specific, unsentimental purpose to his visit. It wasn’t as if Spike was here just because he wanted to see her. As much as Willow might want to delude herself, she had never been much good at it. “I’m still kinda tired,” she said. The last thing she wanted to bring up was the conversation she’d just had with Tara, but once she thought for a moment, it occurred to her that Tara might be what he wanted to discuss. Better to just get it over with. “She’s not gonna say anything. About the magic, I mean. I think once she thinks about what I told her and everything that’s happened, she’ll believe me.”

Honestly, Spike wasn’t sure he cared one way or the other – well, except that Tara keeping her stuttering gob shut would be better for the arrangement they had going here – but he cared enough about Willow to be glad for her sake. He knew how much she hated to be hated. Memories of someone from long ago who’d cared too much for the opinion of others came back to him. He wondered if her resemblance to that foolish boy was the joker in the deck that made it impossible to feel for her what she felt for him. “That’s good.”

Willow had been almost certain that once she’d given him the recap of what had happened, Spike would leave. Much to her surprise, he instead sat down in the chair by the dresser and gestured for her to sit as well. She went to the bed and did just that. What was going on?

“We need to talk about Angel.”

Willow cringed inwardly. She felt so guilty. It was bad enough that Spike loved him, but finding out that Cordelia did, too, had been the icing on the cake of self-hatred that kept forcing itself down her throat. “Why?” she asked, and she winced as she asked it.

“I’ve been wondering about the curse – wondering why you don’t seem too concerned that me and Peaches shagging would be a problem. I’m pretty sure you don’t believe that I couldn’t make him quite…happy,” he couldn’t resist infusing that last bit with a bit of sly sexuality, “So that got me to thinking that maybe there’s a few loopholes in this curse I need to know about. And seeing as how you’re the witch who did the business, I figured you were the one to ask all the whys and wherefores.”

For a moment, she was confused, but then it occurred to her that no one would have really discussed the curse with him in any detail. “It’s not just happiness – or sex, either. He has to know a moment where he feels completely human, as if he’s just a man and not a demon at all – the way he did when he was with…”

“The Slayer,” Spike finished for her. Now that she’d explained it, it seemed childishly simple. He should have figured this out on his own. After all, Angel’s soul had survived a tumble with Darla and while he couldn’t stand Angel’s bitch of a sire, he had to admit she was a damn fine shag. Her professional experience had provided a foundation upon which she’d built quite a sexual edifice. A vampire could forget a lot of things inside that gifted cunt – except that he was a vampire,

That demonic nature, along with the devil’s own skill in the bedroom, was all she had in common with Spike (and thank Hell for that), but it was enough.

“I’m guessing the Gypsies didn’t think anyone could be happy with a soul while still aware that they were a demon – or maybe it was just the only way to get the curse to work right. I mean, you wouldn’t believe how intricate creating spells can be. Did you know that there are a lot of times when you have to worry about rhyme and meter and…,” Willow stopped herself. “Sorry, shop talk is kinda boring, I know.”

Spike was anything but bored, but evincing interest would come too close to opening up the Pandora’s Box that was the man he’d once been. But it was…eerie the way that once again she and William proved such twin creatures. He shrugged, trying to strike the pose of a sort of polite disinterest. “You’ll have to nose around and see about finding yourself some new witchy pals here in L.A.”

“Yeah,” she responded noncommittally.

He tried not to think of the sadness creeping around the edges of her eyes. It was the right moment for him to leave her to whatever she’d been doing before he knocked. He’d gotten what he came for and besides, it was high time for the chit to toughen up. You’d think all the patronizing and ignoring her pals had put her through alone would have sharpened her by now.

Besides, his plan – the new and improved and foolproof plan – had crystallized in his mind and he needed to set in motion before he…before something happened that monkey-wrenched the ideal circumstances that existed right now. “I’ll let you get some rest, pet. Thanks for bringing me up to speed on all the ins and outs” – he couldn’t resist a last bit of ribaldry – “of Angel’s curse.”

Willow tried to hide her disappointment as Spike got up to leave. But all of a sudden he turned slightly, walked over to where she sat and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “It’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.” With that cryptic pronouncement, he was gone.

The touch of his lips echoed through her body.

Spike’s step was purposeful and confident as he headed straight for dear old Dad’s boudoir. Memory was a trusted friend and he recalled with stunning clarity just how he’d won the soulless version of the one he wanted so badly now. It hadn’t been with soft words and candlelit dinners, that was for sure.

Of course, he needed to do a bit of bait and switch to get his…foot…in the door (and didn’t that sting), but he knew that once Angel saw…once he got a taste…he’d realize who he really needed…wanted…loved.

For a moment, he felt a pang and just a bit of anxiety – there was a slight chance Red wouldn’t get with the program, so to speak – but then he remembered the look on her face when he’d kissed her cheek. She’d dance to whatever tune he played. And if her heart took a bit of a beating…well, the chit needed some lessons in the difference between sex and love and she’d get the very best of the former that she’d ever known in the process. As he’d told her just a minute ago, she’d be just fine; he was sure of that. He tried not to think about the fact that what he was going to ask of her was so much worse than what that laughably inconsistent thing that masqueraded as his conscience hadn't allowed him to do to her the other night.

Here at last. He stood silent for a split second at Angel’s door. Look out, Peaches. Spike’s about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.

He dismissed the idea of knocking, too eager for waiting, and simply barged right in. The sight that greeted him made his mouth go dry.

Angel had just gotten out of the shower and was garbed in nothing but a towel when the door to his room opened with no notice whatsoever. Of course it was Spike. It wouldn’t be – couldn’t be – Willow. He glowered at his intruder. “I see you still have no manners.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Spike struggled to regain his composure. The bastard’s body was even more enticing than he remembered. He only hoped Angel’s gaze didn’t wander too far south since keeping his own body from reacting was a lost cause. “And what luck, you being dressed perfectly for what I’m here to discuss.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Spike,” Angel growled.

Spike was undeterred. Narrowing his eyes into that ‘fuck me, baby’ expression that had never failed him, he sauntered towards Angel. He oozed sex and oh did he know it. “I think you are. In fact, I think you’ll love the game I have in mind.”

Angel’s body stirred ever so slightly. He loved Willow; at best, he could barely tolerate Spike. But he was a man, a man with needs and a long memory, and that memory reminded him that Spike was definitely a sop to his sexual appetites. There was something going on, though, something more than the prospect of a meaningless romp. He stood his ground and waited to see just what was being offered.

“You want me,” Spike purred as he now stood right in front of Angel, reaching out to run one finger slowly down Angel’s chest, stopping where the towel hung low on his hips, licking his lips at the way the towel began changing shape.

“No.” His body might be reacting to Spike’s familiar caress, but Angel wasn’t lying.

“All right. Play it your way.” Spike’s tone turned colder, more calculating, as he got back to the plan and swallowed hard on the pain that clutched at his throat. “But we both know you want Red.” His voice changed again, regaining some of that smooth purr. “That you lay awake nights, wishing she was riding you in that great big bed of yours; that every time you take a shower, you dream of pushing her up against the tile and fucking that tight little arse of hers.” Angel moaned softly and Spike knew the fish was on his hook. Time to reel him in. “What if I told you I could make those dreams come true?”

  
Tbc…


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Seventeen)

“C’mon, pet,” Spike used the same sensual purr that had just worked its magic on his sire. Standing behind Willow…his mouth an inch from her ear. “Not like you haven’t thought about it…wanted it.” One hand reached forward, fingers curving around her waist, pulling her to him just – this – much. “Believe me, you’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll see to that.”

He fought the urge to shake his head, clear the voice in it chiding him for what he was doing to the one person in the world who actually loved him. This wasn’t wrong. And besides, it was too late now – he’d already promised Angel, or as good as promised, anyway. He had to deliver the goods.

His tongue darted out, just barely grazing the lobe of her ear. She shivered, but leaned in closer to him at the same time. One more fish on his hook. He was in for a hearty meal, now wasn’t he?

The wisest person ever was the one who’d said ‘be careful what you wish for’. She hadn’t even said the words aloud and yet Willow might as well have spoken in a room full of vengeance demons. Spike was offering her what she couldn’t deny she wanted desperately, but it wasn’t what she wanted at all, not really. “You don’t want me,” she said softly in a voice threatening to choke with impending tears.

Fighting the ache in his chest at the pain so easily heard in her words, Spike turned her around to face him. “I don’t feel the same way about you that you do about me, but believe me, pet, I’ll not have a bad time of it. You’re beautiful. Anyone would be crazy not to want to shag you eight ways from Sunday.” At least he wasn’t lying.

What he wanted to do was tell her that if there was any sense in the world, he’d love her back. Because he already knew she’d agree to this. Hell, she’d agreed before he’d even asked – the night she’d kissed Angel to pay the toll for him to have this chance at all. What would it be like to love someone like that? He’d never know, because he loved his coldblooded, heartless bastard of a sire.

Oh wait – Angel wasn’t heartless. He just didn’t have a bit of that heart to give to Spike.

But that was now. If this plan worked – and it would, Spike was sure of it – Angel would get a taste and realize… realize that the girl he loved wasn’t nearly as good for him as the vampire who… And it just now occurred to him that so much of his plan was predicated on outdoing Willow in the bedroom – one more dose of pain and humiliation for a girl whose only crimes were loving Spike and being loved by Angel.

Willow should say no to this; she _wanted_ to say no to this. What kind of sane woman would say yes to having sex with…and with someone else there who…and all because…?

Then she looked into Spike’s eyes. He wanted Angel so badly – loved him. He deserved to have what he wanted. Because none of this was his fault. If he hadn’t been forced to bring her to Los Angeles; if she hadn’t been stupid and ego-crazed enough to misuse her power in the first place… The fault was hers and it was up to her to fix it, to help Spike win his heart’s desire. And if her own heart was ripped to pieces in the bargain? That was a price she had to be willing to pay.

At least Spike had said he’d enjoy having sex with her, right? Maybe he even meant it.

“Okay.” Her voice was softer than a whisper, but Spike heard her all the same.

Angel sat on his bed, still clad in nothing but a towel. What kind of devil’s bargain had he just made? He had just assented to Spike all but pimping Willow. When the two came to his door, he should say no, tell Spike he’d changed his mind. That would be the right thing to do, the thing fairest to Willow.

But he wouldn’t do it. Just knowing that, with Spike there to keep his demon awake and present, he could have what he wanted so very badly… It was too much for him to resist. He’d spent so long sacrificing and renouncing and doing without. This was one time when he just couldn’t.

He was damned all over again and he just couldn’t bring himself to turn back from the flames.

The least he could do, though, was pay some lip service to decorum. He respected and cared for Willow far too much to greet her nearly naked. That would degrade this encounter and she was far too fine for such vulgar treatment. So he went to his closet, selecting an elegant but casual pair of slacks and a silk shirt. He dressed himself carefully, wanting his appearance to please her. Surely she’d notice the little things he did for her. And soon enough, maybe even this first time, she’d realize that the one who loved _her_ was the one she should love herself.

“Do I look okay?” Willow asked as she came out of the bathroom wearing a tight, long-sleeved, tie-dyed t-shirt and the nicest jeans she owned. She hadn’t actually thought about dressing seductively when she’d packed her belongings for this trip. She hadn’t even thought she’d be here this long. She thought of the plain beige bra and panties she had on underneath and cringed. “I don’t exactly have any sexy lingerie,” she began to explain.

She looked just fine to Spike. It was hard to explain, but while he appreciated all the finer bits of sexy attire on other women, he just couldn’t picture Willow that way. Trying to envision her in lace suspenders and a thong? That was something which didn’t work for him at all. “I have no complaints,” he said. And he didn’t. Besides, if she was all tarted up, Spike would feel even more like a pimp than he already did.

“Are you sure? I mean, not that I really have anything else to change into and it’s not like I could ask Fred or Cordelia if I could borrow anything from them, but…”

It surprised her when Spike stopped her words with a kiss. They were all alone, but he was kissing her anyway. She wondered why, but it wasn’t as if she could ask him, so she decided to relax and enjoy it.

There was something sweet and vulnerable about her when she babbled. Just like the way she’d so modestly changed in the bathroom even though he’d be seeing her naked (and doing more than seeing) in just a few minutes. It made him painfully aware of just what kind of girl she was, and how much she must love him to do something so out of character. It also told him how little she’d believed him when he said he found her attractive.

She deserved a little proof before the main event – something that was just between the two of them, so he kissed her. It was a real kiss, slow and deliberate and passionate. He let his hands get a feel for the terrain he’d be exploring soon. He was surprised, and happily so, by the way she mimicked him as he caressed her, learning his body the way he was learning hers. More than ever, he realized he’d meant it when he’d told her he was going to enjoy himself.

But all good things must come to end; any more of this and she’d start getting the wrong idea. Yes, he’d relish shagging her, but when all was said and done, this was about him winning over his sire. She’d be hurt far worse if he allowed her to create any illusions. He ended the kiss and said,“Can’t start the show without Peaches, now can we?”

The bright, shining fantasy Willow had started to build out of the kiss collapsed into nothingness at Spike’s words. Of course. This was about Angel, or, more accurately, about Angel and Spike. First there were three and then there’d be two and then there’d be Willow with nowhere to go.

No self-pity. She’d agreed to this and there was no turning back. “Okey dokey,” she said with a cheerful tone as false as Spike’s kiss. “Let’s go.”

His conscience pained him sorely, but Angel didn’t hesitate when a knock at the door with a familiar cadence along with that sense that told him Spike was nearby roused him from a rather self-flagellant reverie.

“Hi,” Willow said as he opened the door. She was adorable, with her wide grin and colourful clothes, such a counterpoint to the power that swirled just beneath that pale, soft skin.

Spike stood behind her, his eyes focused on Angel, who wouldn’t meet them. It was a blow, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him. Very soon those brown eyes would seek out him and him alone. He guided Willow past Angel and into the room.

Willow was shaking and her palms were sweating. Was she going to be able to go through with this? To have sex with Spike while Angel watched? “Hi,” she said again, wincing as she did. She was acting as if she’d never had sex before at all. She felt that way, too.

Angel’s eyes never left Willow. Her nerves were palpable and his heart ached. Again, though, it did nothing to shake his resolve – tonight he was going to have her, well _share_ her, at any rate. After a moment, he looked to Spike, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. With that, Angel went to sit in a chair facing the bed – the choreography they’d roughly worked out beforehand.

Leading Willow to the bed, Spike spoke to her in a low voice. “It’s alright, pet. Just look at me, focus on what I’m doing. We’re the only two people in this room, yeah?” He felt a sharp pang when he thought about the fact that he’d left out certain facts when he’d made this bargain – but hell, by the time Angel joined the party, she’d be too worked up to care.

Willow’s back was to Angel and she stared into Spike’s eyes. Wow. They were really blue. Of course, after a moment, she couldn’t stare into them anymore because he was kissing her neck, and running his hands ever so gently down her body. She’d never realized there was such a soft side to Spike. She moaned as he took her earlobe gently between his teeth; the barest of bites. Her eyes closed and she forced herself to push what was really happening out of her mind, allowing herself to get lost instead.

Watching transfixed as Spike slowly pulled Willow’s t-shirt over her head and discarded it on the floor, Angel wished he could be the one to unveil her.

The feeling of Spike’s fingers as he undid the clasp of her bra took over Willow’s awareness, the sensation magnified beyond logic, as if his hands covered her whole body. “Just feel,” he said. And that’s what she did, even as the reality of what was happening sharpened with the movement of Spike’s hands as he removed her bra.

It was easy to tell that she was fighting the urge to cover herself; Spike could feel the momentary tension in her arms. Honestly, he couldn’t understand her timidity. The chit had a lovely body, certainly nothing to be so timorous about displaying. He paused in his disrobing of her to caress her breasts, his mouth back against that porcelain throat, the throat that made him regret the loss of his bite so keenly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he felt her nipples harden against his hands. For all her nerves, little Red was a responsive thing, and as the scent of her arousal began to emerge, he almost worried that she’d be a bit more competition than he’d bargained.

Spike’s hands undoing Willow’s jeans, pushing them down her legs. Angel squinted and he could almost replace those hands with his own in his mind’s eye…almost, but not quite.

Willow shuddered as her panties followed her jeans down her legs. Taking in a breath and holding it, she stepped out of both. She’d never felt more naked in her life. She kept her eyes closed even as Spike led her to what she assumed was the bed. “It’s okay, luv,” he said softly, and she hated him for saying that word, _that word_, so off-handedly. She felt the loss of his touch when he let go of her hand, but it was a moment later before she opened her eyes.

Now he was as naked as she was. She couldn’t have breathed now for anything. He was…beautiful. She never thought she would say that about a naked man, but Spike was perfect. Even his…cock. There was a symmetry to him… As much as she’d loved Oz, she’d never thought he was beautiful when he was naked. She’d never really believed men’s bodies could be described that way – not until now.

Her appreciation was obvious and a nice boost to his ego. He wished he dared cheat a glance over to Angel, but he was too smart to fool himself into believing the bastard had gotten over Willow after just one look at Spike’s bare arse and he couldn’t bear to see desire for someone else in those eyes – not just yet.

He looked down at where he had just taken Willow’s hand in his again then drew her to him. This time he kissed her lips. It was a brief kiss – he didn’t want to encourage any romantic illusions – but he wanted her to get into the spirit of the thing. His lips moved back to her neck and his hands began to roam over her. Her skin was soft, he’d give her that, and she was a lovely thing to touch. Gratifyingly, her hands were no idle bystanders; she was doing some exploring of her own.

It had been a very long time since Willow had been with a man, and even if it hadn’t, Willow was still sure that Spike was like no one else. She marveled at how smooth and marble-like his skin felt as well as looked. He was never more otherworldly than he was right now. She braved her nerves and took his cock in her hand, looking down to watch as it hardened and grew as she stroked it. Logically, she knew that he’d probably react that way to _anyone’s_ touch, but a stubborn, hopeful part of her insisted that it was possible that he was aroused by _her_. She stopped thinking when his fingers found their way between her thighs.

The scent of Willow’s arousal and the way she was moaning as Spike touched her were too much. Angel needed some relief. As silently as he could, he undressed and sat back down to continue watching…joining in was for later. For now, he slowly stroked himself. He found the same rhythm Willow was using with Spike.

For a girl who had been on the other team for quite awhile and whose experience with either sex was meager, Willow was something. In fact, she was driving him crazy. She had this way of touching that was both too much and not enough – and that was just enough to make him ache for the kind of relief only to be had in one way. It was a good thing he hadn’t done such a bad job himself. His fingers verified that she was well ready for what he needed.

Drawing her down to the bed with him, he whispered in her ear. “Ride me, pet.” He smiled as a blush heated her skin.

Spike lay down on the bed and Willow allowed herself a moment to gaze at him, she cheated a glance at Angel out of the corner of her eye, actually hoping he was seeing Spike the way she did, even though that would break her heart.

He was naked. Why was he naked? Oh, of course. It made sense once she took into account the reason this was happening. His clothes had been really nice and the last thing he would want to do would be to get them all…messy. Without taking the time to see where his eyes were focused, Willow focused her own back on Spike before she lost her nerve, remembering that, in a way, this was her dream come true. She was about to make love – well, have sex – with Spike.

Angel was transfixed at the sight of Willow taking Spike inside her – hesitant and uncertain at first, his fancy transforming that from the natural awkwardness of a girl unused to men into regret that it wasn’t _his_ body she was mounting.

If he’d had to breathe, his lungs would have been as useless as they were now at the sight of her astride Spike. Sweat glistening on skin nearly as pale as any vampire, her eyes closed, her face rapt with pleasure as she found a pace that seemed to drive both her and Spike swiftly toward ecstasy.

The girl’s tight heat around him almost made him unconscious of whether Angel was enjoying the show or not, but almost wasn’t all the way. He turned his head, trying to catch his sire’s eye. The bastard was too caught up in gazing at Willow to even notice. Looking up at Willow’s eyes, closed in bliss, he followed her example and shut out everything but the smooth slide of that tight cunt he was sheathed in. Besides, in a moment or two, his sire would be right here with them and he couldn’t ignore Spike then.

“Yeah, that’s it. Like that.” She heard Spike’s voice urging her on. He must be close; she was as well. His hands, those wonderful hands – he was touching her in all the right places and…

Willow’s orgasm took Spike right over the edge with her. He arched up into her, letting his release consume him, feeling her heat all the way through him. He would keep it with him in case the cold grew too great.

The sound of Willow keening in pleasure as she came was too much for Angel. His patience had run out.

Coming down from the high of the ecstasy she’d just felt, it took Willow a moment to register that the hands caressing her breasts couldn’t possibly be Spike’s. When she realized what was going on, however, she felt Spike’s tight grip on her hips, holding her in place.

“What’s going on?”

Angel felt a chill down his spine. It seemed that Spike hadn’t told her everything.

There was betrayal in Willow’s eyes as they met his, and Spike felt more remorseful than he’d ever felt since the day he was turned, but there was no stopping now, not when he was this close to what he wanted – needed – so badly. “Relax, luv. Just go with it, enjoy it, okay?”

It would be easy to stop this, especially with magic at her disposal, but she wouldn’t. The look in Spike’s eyes – it was so desperate. And besides, she thought, as Angel’s hands caressed her again, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? She gave Spike a soft smile and he let loose the grip he had on her. Moving off of him, she made room for Angel to join them on the bed. This was for Spike, she reminded herself, this was for Spike.

Tbc…


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Eighteen)

Spike must not have been sleeping very soundly, because the noise of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom woke him. He didn't move at first, however. He didn’t want to disturb whoever was still asleep next to him. It didn’t take long to realize that the warm, softly snoring body beside him was Willow, which meant that…

Angel was all alone in the shower.

This was the chance Spike had been waiting for. Sure, last night had been good – better than good if the feeling of physical satisfaction sleep had not drained from him was any indication – but it had been the _three_ of them. What Spike was craving was a little one on one time. Angel couldn’t refuse him; after all, he had delivered Red, just as he’d promised.

With careful movements so as not to awaken the girl, Spike got out of bed and headed for the shower.

There was something sensual about a hot shower. Perhaps no one could appreciate the feel of hot water in quite the same way that a vampire could, and Angel was never more aware of his state – and yet oddly glad of it – than when he was enveloped in heat and water and steam.

In addition to the sensations of the shower, he was also enjoying his memories of last night.

Touching Willow, holding her, being inside her – those experiences were glorious beyond anything he’d ever known. And he’d pleased her; he had. Maybe she didn’t feel the emotions for him that he did for her (yet), but she’d still responded to his caress, given herself over to him in every way, enjoyed him. There was no fooling the senses of a vampire after all.

Another thing you couldn’t do to a vampire was sneak up on one. “Spike,” Angel nearly growled seconds before Spike opened the door to the shower.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the tone of voice with which Spike had hoped to be greeted, but he knew that last night’s shagging, great as it was, hadn’t been enough to bring Angel to his senses. “Thought you might like some company.” His voice was low and smooth and sensual as his eyes slid down his sire’s body…down to where his cock was even now stirring slightly. Oh yeah.

Angel was cornered as Spike joined him in the shower. He could feel his body responding, the memories of last night too fresh to repress. His boy had been every bit as talented as he remembered. And while it was Willow who gave him true ecstasy, Spike had certainly fed his demon’s darker appetites – the fresh bite Angel could see still red on his pale neck attesting to that. “What do you want?”

Leave it to Peaches to ask the most pointless questions. Two healthy vampires, naked in a shower, and he asks what Spike wants. Might as well not dignify that with an answer. Instead, he let his eyes do the talking, staring pointedly at Angel’s cock as it continued to respond to his nearness.

In for a penny, in for a pound – he reached out, letting his hand go where his eyes had been.

Hissing at the cool hand encircling his cock, Angel began to pull away, but then Spike’s voice stopped him. “I gave you what you wanted.” It was almost begging and it hurt to hear. For all that Spike was a means to an end, Angel’s soul was too much a part of him not to feel some regret at using him. He relaxed, nodding imperceptibly, and he watched as Spike dropped to his knees.

Angel’s cock slid into his mouth as if it belonged there, which it did. Spike knew what was his, even if his idiot of a sire didn’t get it yet. Now, though, now he had the chance to give him a clue. It was just the two of them. Moving his mouth up and down Angel’s length, he remembered every trick he’d used to make Angelus melt in days gone by – every movement of tongue, the right suction, the slide of teeth. He brought his hand up to caress Angel’s balls. A quick look up told him he hadn’t lost a bit in all the years they’d been apart. Angel was leaning back against the tiled wall, eyes closed, ridges flickering. That’s it, Angel, give in. Let your boy take care of you.

Willow stirred to wakefulness, finding it a bit surprising when she opened her eyes and realized she was all alone. The sound of the shower gave her a clue as to where the two vampires had gone, and she felt a pang. Sure, she was glad that Spike was with the one he loved, but knowing how happy he must be right now to be all alone with Angel reminded her that she’d just been a convenient pawn in the game to get there. Thoughts of everything which had transpired – everything she’d done and with whom – filled her mind and she wanted desperately to escape them.

It was time to head back to her room. Quickly getting out of bed, she found her rumpled clothes and dressed in haste, then opened and shut the door as quietly as she could while leaving. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the showering pair.

Her room seemed so far away as she hurried down the hall, and the tears began before she was safe inside. Luckily, she was able to keep them silent until she’d closed her door behind her. What had she done? And what was going to happen now?

“Where do you go at night? And don’t tell me it’s patrol, okay? I’m not stupid. You never stay out all night on patrol.” Okay, maybe Dawn was being harsh, but she was tired of living like this – of walking on eggshells and being left alone all the time. As much as she was afraid of hearing that the reason for all of this was that Buffy wished she hadn’t been brought back to life, she was more afraid of things staying the way they were.

The anger and the hurt in Dawn’s eyes cut right through the wall around Buffy’s heart. She’d been so blind, thinking that she was handling things so well, that Dawn didn’t notice that she spent so many nights away from home. There was more than one person in this house who felt lost and lonely.

Pulling Dawn into a hug, she choked out, “I’m sorry. I’ve just…I’ve been going through some stuff and…”

Dawn wasn’t having any of it and she pushed Buffy away. “You’re not the only one going through stuff, okay?” Her sister tried to interrupt, but Dawn bulldozed right over her. Having finally gotten up the courage to speak her mind, nothing was going to stop her now. “No, it’s my turn to talk. I get that it’s been hard for you, I do, but it’s been hard for me, too. First you were dead and it hurt and then you came back and…it still hurts, because you’re not back at all, not really. You never want to spend time with me or do stuff with me and I know you have a job and patrol, but…even when you’re home, it’s like you wish I was gone. Do you? Do you wish it was me that died?”

For the first time, Buffy thought she understood what it felt like for a vampire when it was staked. Dawn’s words were more agonizing than anything she’d ever known before. She’d wanted to feel? Boy was she rethinking that right now. But it was important, and she knew it. Because even if she had somehow stopped Dawn from talking, the truth would have still existed. Now she had to deal with it. No more hiding in Spike’s crypt, no more wishing Willow would come back to be here for Dawn. Buffy had a sister, and she needed to _be_ a sister.

“I love you,” she said. “And you’re right - I’ve been selfish and…I’m gonna try to do better, okay? Can you give me another chance?”

As much as Dawn wanted to stay mad and hard, she loved Buffy, too. Would Buffy really change? She hoped so and she wanted to believe the tears in her sister’s eyes, wanted this to mean that things would go back to the way they used to be. She decided not to ask again just where Buffy had been going at night; all that would do was spoil what was happening right now. This time, she was the one who did the hugging and it felt good that Buffy didn’t react the way _she_ had. Instead, they clung to each other. “I love you, Buffy.”

“I love you, too.” You could never say those words too many times. Buffy held her sister close and decided that feeling really was a very good thing. And the fact that she hadn’t needed Spike to feel after all was even better. She was glad. This meant no one ever had to know what had happened, where she'd been going, because it was all over now - now and forever. “Hey,” she said after a moment. “What do you say we go to the store and pick up some Ben and Jerry’s and some cookies then come home and watch a video? I feel the need for some sisterly bonding today.”

Dawn’s eyes lit up. “Okay, but I get to pick the movie.”

Buffy groaned good-naturedly and went to grab her purse. The things you did for love.

Taking a shower of her own, Willow tried desperately to scrub all the confusion and heartache from her mind. Sadly, that wasn’t to be. Washing away the evidence didn’t wash away the crime and the soreness that remained kept the memories in her body as well as in her thoughts.

She’d had sex with Spike…and with Angel. It was the first time in her life that sex had been something other than an act of mutual love and caring and while, theoretically, she was okay with that when other people did it, she wasn’t so sure it was okay for _her_.

Of course, her scruples hadn’t gotten in the way last night. As conflicted as she felt about it now, she had enjoyed herself with both men. Yes, she knew Spike didn’t really want her, but for all that, he’d been a skilled and considerate partner and sex with him had been incredible. And then there was Angel – Angel who had treated her as if touching her was a dream come true. She still couldn’t believe the things she’d done with him, things she’d never even considered with Oz.

For the first time, she thought about Buffy. She felt guilty, but not in the same way she thought she would. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Buffy and Angel couldn’t be together. What she felt guilty for was, oddly enough, being responsible for Spike not loving her anymore. If it weren’t for his coming to Los Angeles with Willow, Buffy might have woken up and seen just how special Spike was. She might have had a chance at being truly happy. Thanks to Willow, though, that treasure now belonged to Angel – lost before Buffy ever had the chance to learn its true value.

If they’d never come to Los Angeles, Willow’s heart would still be safe with Tara and it wouldn’t matter at all that Spike didn’t love her.

Getting out of the shower, she made quick work of drying off and getting dressed – white cotton panties and bra, oversized sweatshirt, peasant skirt. Part of her wanted to cry, but she’d done that only a short while ago and besides, she’d have better use for those tears soon enough. After all, last night was probably both her first and last threesome. If Spike was succeeding as well as his intimate encounter with Angel this morning seemed to indicate, soon she’d no longer be needed here.

Tara was going through the motions, but she honestly couldn’t have repeated a word her professor had just said in class. Not that it really mattered, at least not to her, not now. All she could think about was Willow.

She’d wrestled with what she’d heard and seen in Los Angeles on the drive back and every moment since. Was it true? Was Willow really not an addict but a witch with a higher purpose who’d been punished for losing her way? Was her magic something important and profound? Did she have a destiny – a destiny that would take her into realms far more arcane and exalted than any in which Tara could ever tread?

How would Tara handle that if it were so?

Still, she couldn’t let fear of the profound changes this would make in the dynamics of their relationship stop her from accepting the truth. If they still had a relationship. More than Willow’s magic had torn them apart. She’d known that before and she knew it now more than ever. Maybe the magic had just been an excuse – a way to cut and run ahead of a heartbreak she’d somehow seen coming. Maybe she’d always known, deep down, that Willow wasn’t hers, not really, not forever …no matter how much she wanted her to be.

Tara loved Willow. That was truth and it would always _be_ truth. But was it enough? Or was it just something she would carry with her into the lonely future. She remembered the way Angel had stroked Willow’s arm and she shivered. If war had been declared, should she fight or surrender? What if the battle was already over?

It suddenly occurred to her that neither of them had talked about Willow coming home. Maybe that was her answer.

Though she wasn’t the least bit sure why, Willow decided to pop into the nursery and see Connor. They’d sort of bonded, after all, and she probably wouldn’t have many more chances to see him.

Not surprisingly, the baby was not alone when she entered the room. “Hey, Lorne.”

“Witchiepoo. Good to see you.” His eyes were sad, though, and Willow felt like they were staring at some scarlet ‘A’ that no one but he could see.

“I just thought I’d stop in and see how the little guy’s doing.” Her weight shifted from foot to foot. Lorne was making her increasingly nervous.

It was done, Lorne realized as her aura all but shouted the news at him; the triangle had been built. He wondered if Willow had any idea of just how strong and solid that structure was, and just how much a part of it she was destined to remain. No going back to the arms of her one-time girlfriend. Not now. “How are Angel Cakes and Blondie?” he asked, deciding to let the cat out of the bag.

Willow blushed to the roots of her hair, but she hoped against hope that Lorne was just asking a polite question. “I…I haven’t seen them.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen everything there is to see of them.”

Oh goddess. “You…?”

“I know.” He knew now that he harbored no more ill will towards her. None at all. Dreams, like people, died. That was the way of things. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get the video or anything. I just…”

“Know,” Willow finished.

“Yeah, cupcake. That’s about it.”

She hated herself for begging, but… “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

Her fear and shame were palpable and painful. “It’s nobody’s beeswax.”

“Thank you.” The words came from the fullness of her heart.

Lorne surprised himself by briefly embracing her. She was one big bundle of hurt. The Powers That Be might not care, but Lorne did. For all of that, though, there wasn’t anything he could do or say to help.

Saying nothing, he quietly exited, leaving her to spend some quality time with Connor. He always found the baby soothing and if anyone needed peace and solace right now, it was Willow. Far be it from him to deny that to her.

Last night had gone swimmingly. Willow had done everything he’d asked of her and then some and shagging her hadn’t been half bad, really. The chit was a far better lay than her limited experience and history of abandonment would have led him to expect. She’d been warm and eager and pliable – a nice contrast to all that magical power she wielded. And damn if watching her give Angel a first go at something that Spike could scarcely believe wolfboy hadn’t tagged first wasn’t more than a bit of a treat to watch. She’d gotten well into the spirit of the game; she’d even helped ease Angel over to the one he was _supposed_ to be with – Spike himself.

Now that? That had been ecstasy. His sire still had the moves – all the right ones, in fact – and Spike couldn’t recall ever having felt such glorious pleasure. When Angel was inside him, he felt like himself again – as if the chip and that nonsense with the Slayer had never happened at all. Was it so wrong that he’d assumed Angel felt it, too? That he’d somehow figured out that while Willow was a nice bit of fun, it was his boy who’d been made – literally – just for him?

So why hadn’t he? He’d thought that he’d overcome that initial reluctance in the shower. But no, once Angel had gotten off, spilling himself down Spike’s throat, the bastard had gone looking for Willow, glowering and brooding when he realized she’d left. He hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with Spike at all.

It could have been a glorious morning – rediscovering each other – but no, the bastard was still hung up on the little witch. It hurt.

But Spike’s plan was still going to work; he knew it. It would just take a little more time. Willow would need to be in the mix for a bit longer, that was all.

He tried not to think about what that would do to the girl – tried to forget the way she’d looked at him with eyes so full of feeling. This was about Spike and Angel and these were demon games. Willow would just have to fend for herself as best she could.

Tbc…


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Nineteen)

“Willow.”

Angel’s voice made her startle and Willow dropped the files she’d been holding before she whirled around. “Gosh, I’m clumsy today.” Again she felt as if she was wearing a scarlet ‘A’. It was a good thing Cordelia had gone home.

He smiled, enjoying the flush that pinked her skin. The fact that he affected her this way had to be a good sign, didn’t it? “I snuck up on you.” He looked around and reached out with his senses, making sure they were alone before he added, “You weren’t clumsy at all last night.”

Her face flamed hot and Willow could hardly breathe. The look in Angel’s eyes… Hadn’t he and Spike ‘bonded’ this morning? She had thought this was over – or almost over, anyway. Today had been spent bracing herself for the wrenching experience of leaving Spike. It would be hard enough now. How much longer would it need to be postponed? “Angel…I…”

“It’s okay,” he said softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “I know… But it was wonderful.” If his hopes that she’d opened her heart to him at last were dashed – at least for now – he _could_ take comfort in the fact that she didn’t pull away, not even slightly.

She broke the spell completely in a few scant seconds, however. “I thought…I mean this morning you and Spike…you guys were…”

“It was sex, Willow. That was all.” The next words out of his mouth made her shatter. “It didn’t mean anything.”

How could he say that? Spike loved him – so much, so completely. They were bound by the kind of mystical ties Willow would never share with _anyone_. All of this, everything she’d done, it was supposed to make him realize that Spike was who he loved…to make him love Spike as much as she did.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.” There was so much compassion for her in his voice; it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “But I can’t lie to you. And I can’t stop loving you.”

“You can,” she pleaded. “You really can. People stop loving me all the time. It’s easy.” She’d meant for that to be humourous and flip and subliminally instructive. It came off as pained and lonely and self-pitying. She wanted to slap herself.

He might be deluding himself, or indulging in some wishful thinking, but Angel thought that what Willow just said might be the answer. No wonder she had given her heart to the one who couldn’t return her feelings. If she didn’t think love would last anyway… He remembered her parents and wondered why none of this had occurred to him sooner. “It’s not easy at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with the other people in your life, but I’m not like them. I love you. That’s the way it is and it’s not going to change.”

Cupping his hand around the back of her neck, he leaned in and kissed her. Happily, she didn’t pull away.

Willow didn’t resist. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t fair to Angel – she knew he was building this into more than it was. Still, she did nothing to end the kiss or to push him away. She might hate herself, but being loved – being wanted –felt good and somehow using Angel was something she could rationalize. She knew she could never do this to Tara.

Being with Willow like this was somehow even better than being with Spike had been this morning and the kiss distracted Angel so thoroughly that it wasn’t until he heard a voice from the doorway that he realized they were no longer alone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were… I’ll just ask you about this later, okay, Willow?”

She was gone before Willow had the chance to say a single word.

Fred dashed upstairs, uncomfortable at what she’d just walked in on. Hey, weren’t Willow and _Spike_ kinda…? Okay, she guessed this wasn’t any of her business. Gunn had been right though about Angel’s feelings for Willow. She sure felt bad for Cordelia, but Angel deserved to be happy, she guessed – oh, just not too happy. She’d heard stories about what happened when Angel was _too_ happy. Not like Willow would ever let that happen, though. Fred decided not to worry. Instead, she hurried to share the news with Gunn. For a moment she allowed herself to recast the scene she’d just witnessed with two very different people. But that was silly, wasn’t it? If Gunn liked her, she wouldn’t need to daydream. He’d have already kissed her by now.

“You don’t think she’ll say anything, do you?” Willow said after a moment.

It seemed like a very strange question to Angel. “Sooner or later, people are going to realize that we’re involved.”

Involved – oh goddess. Okay, maybe – technically – it was true, but having people know about made it seem so much more real, and that, in turn, made her feel worse than ever about it. And besides… “What about Spike? Are you okay with everyone knowing about him, too?”

“Yes.” His answer shocked her. It was a good shock, but still… She only hoped the optimism it inspired wasn’t a pipe dream.

Her response, therefore, was cautious. “That’s good,” she said, keeping her tone noncommittal.

Angel watched her rein in her emotions and it bothered him, but he was kind and he didn’t elaborate. His reason for being willing to have it known that Spike was part of the equation had nothing to do with sentiment and everything to do with expediency and trust. The others had to be reassured that Angel’s soul was in no jeopardy – and that, after all, was the only reason Spike was in his bed anyway.

No, it wasn’t. The other, more painful reason was that without Spike, Willow wouldn’t be there at all. Or at least she wouldn’t have come to his room at first. Still, they’d shared…she’d let him be the first who…

“It wasn’t just Spike who made you feel… Last night was special, and not just for me. You know that.”

His words caught her off guard. He was right and he was wrong and Willow found it hard to untangle the threads of it all. Her answer was the only thing she knew for sure. “I don’t love you, Angel.” Even before she saw the wounds shining wetly in his eyes, she felt compelled to try to soften the blow. “I’m sorry.”

There was no reply and Willow left the office. There wasn’t anything she could do by staying.

Willow opened the door to her room and gasped. Guess it was kind of a day for being startled. “Spike? What are you doing here?”

‘Bout time the chit got back here…bloody hell. She reeked of his sire. Stifling his ire, he smoothly replied, “Can’t a bloke pay a call on a girl he’s shagging?”

Not for the first time today, Willow reddened. It was funny that she’d never reacted so primly with Tara. Maybe that was because she hadn’t been ashamed of it. How on Earth had she fallen out of love with Tara at all?

Love was a twisted and horrible thing.

Spike looked her over and she blushed more deeply still. “I was just downstairs. In the office. With…”

“Angel. I know. I can smell him all over you.”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes were pools of tears and sincerity and Spike wanted to beat her senseless. How the hell was he supposed to deal with her anyway? Hating her was all wrong, but so was _liking_ her – and of course, he felt the fondness for her most of all.

Bollocks! He needed to remember that he was a demon. She was both a pawn and a rival, but those were her only roles. Maybe – once upon a time – they’d sort of been pals, but not now, oh no, not now.

“We’ll be seeing him again soon. Thanks for warming him up for me.”

“I thought that this morning you guys had…” Was that pity? Damn her! Damn her to hell for that!

“We did. Don’t worry, pet, you’ll be forgotten in no time at all.” He was sharp and cruel and cold and he drowned himself in it. William had no place here and he’d best remember that.

His disdain and loathing were as clear as a bell and they hurt. She couldn’t really blame him, though, could she? Willow remembered Veruca – the wolf who’d stolen what Willow cherished more than anything. Ironic that Oz had never bitten her, yet here she was… She gave Spike the only gift that was within her power to bestow. “You don’t have to… Tonight, I mean. You don’t have to touch me or…anything. I’ll still…I mean if you need me to…”

She was a piece of work, this one. He gave her fuck all and yet she… It was never going to make sense, was it? He pulled her into an embrace. “’M sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to put it like that. Not your fault, not any of it.” She was crying as he held her and it was fit to break his heart – the heart he couldn’t give her. “You know you’re too good for me, don’t you?”

Her voice was muffled against his chest. “People always say that when they don’t love you.” No, they didn’t, at least they never said that to Spike, but he didn’t contradict her.

After a moment, she got herself under control and Spike let her go. “Sorry I cried all over your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, winking as he did. “Won’t be wearin’ it much longer, will I?”

She didn’t think she could still blush, but she did. “I meant it, okay? You don’t have to…”

“Shag ya? Pet, it’s not a hardship, believe me. You’re not bad at all.” Now there was a ringing endorsement. She wondered…not why Oz had been able to let her go so easily, but why Angel didn’t seem tired of her already.

The look in her eyes told him he’d hurt her all over again. He shouldn’t care; he shouldn’t care at all. But he did, and for some reason that made him say a great deal more then he should have. “If I had any sense… But love’s not like that, is it?”

“No,” she said, those big green eyes fixed on his, “it isn’t.” Neither of them loved wisely, but oh did they love too well.

“I should probably change, huh.” The baggy sweatshirt and loose skirt she was sporting were hardly sexy, that was for sure.

Spike shrugged. “No need.” For some reason, he gave her more honesty. “This is who you are, pet. You’re not some tarted-up sex doll. That sort of thing just isn’t for you.”

Of course, she took it all wrong. “I know. I’ve never exactly been the sexy type. Not even in leather.” Spike got lost with that last remark, but for some reason, he didn’t pursue it. He should have; he could have gotten them both sidetracked, perhaps enough to stop caring that she was hurt and vulnerable.

Instead, he said, “You’re sexy. It’s just that it’s a different kind of sexy, that’s all.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. Buffy had said the exact same thing to her once. It was like it came from some handbook for beautiful people: How to Placate Your Mousy Friends. Because beautiful people always had them, didn’t they? She’d seen pairs like that everywhere, even in the lesbian club she and Tara had gone to a few times. There was always the really hot girl with the plain friend who watched her purse and her coat while the hot girl danced and flirted and had a good time. There was always a Buffy and Willow.

“I’m not just saying that,” Spike said, though he knew it was useless. For her, the mirror was always every bit as empty as it was for him. It hurt to be reminded of how little she thought of herself, and for a moment he even thought of reminding the girl that Angel liked her kind of sexy a great deal, but he couldn’t cut himself that deeply. Her wounds already drew blood from Spike’s old scars.

“Before we…you know…go to Angel’s room, I kinda need to eat something, okay?” As if to add a bit of credibility to her statement, her stomach growled. She was reminded of the fact that she hadn’t actually eaten today.

Spike smiled. Humans had a far more innocuous reaction to a day’s hunger than his kind did, that was certain. “Sure thing, pet. We’ll satisfy _that_ appetite first.” He leered at her, and while he could tell she didn’t believe for a moment that it was sincere, at least it made the corners of her mouth turn up a bit. He tried not to fret about her anymore as he allowed his mind to drift to thoughts of the appetites of his own he’d be satisying soon.

Angel tiptoed quietly out of the nursery. One last look at his son and then he closed the door gently behind him. The one pure and true thing in his life, that was what Connor was; the one thing untainted by corruption and manipulation. Not that he was going to transmogrify his life to match that one bit of perfection. No, he was too much of a demon for that.

Funny how admitting that was not just easier, but more comfortable now.

His room awaited. Would he sleep alone or would he have company again?

He supposed he was greedy for resenting the solitude as he opened the door and found the room empty, but he was a vampire with a vampire’s appetites and somehow, one night with Willow and Spike had spoiled him for his old monastic existence in a way that Darla somehow hadn’t.

While he’d had some blood earlier, he still felt hungry and restless. Another side effect of last night – the taste of Spike’s blood reminding him of how far from satisfying pig’s blood truly was. Maybe he should go out. Cordelia had not had a vision, but that didn’t mean that no one was in trouble. Perhaps…

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Angel’s altruistic musings ceased. He knew who was there before he even turned the knob.

One look at Angel and Spike’s priorities were all straightened out again, or at least they were the way Spike wanted them to be. His sire was a beautiful man, no question of that, and being near him again brought a whole rush of recent memories to the fore. His body reacted accordingly. “Thought you might be hungry.” He arched an eyebrow meaningfully, not intending for the remark to be the least bit subtle.

“Come in.” Angel’s eyes were on Willow. There were so many sides to her, he thought, as she shyly crept into the room behind Spike. She was a warrior and healer and last night she’d proved herself a lover both passionate and sensual, but there was still that fragile, innocent side. She was all sorts of contradictions and he found her intoxicating.

If Angel had intended to go through the motions of treating this as a social call for at least a little while, Spike was having none of it. He had his shirt off almost before Angel had closed the door behind his visitors.

“Didn’t come here for tea, now did we?” Spike quipped as Willow’s eyes widened. To her shock, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with almost brutal intensity. “Let’s get you out of those clothes, shall we?”

He couldn’t help himself – the way Angel looked at Willow… For all his earlier scruples and regrets about hurting her, his own pain filled him now, blocking out the poet and leaving only the demon. He practically tore off Willow’s clothes in his eagerness to get her naked, to show Angel who Willow really wanted and make _him_ eat his bloody heart out for a change.

Spike’s hands were all over her, his attentions frenzied – it was confusing and she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Her body responded in a way that almost frightened her – she wanted him, needed him, had to have him. She was in such a haze that she didn’t register when Spike got her onto the bed and then reached over to Angel’s bedside table. Was that lube? But she was… Oh.

“I want a taste of what you gave Peaches last night,” he growled in her ear.

It shocked her and she wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea of starting off the night that way, but… No, she wasn’t going to refuse him.

She flipped over and got on all fours. Soon enough, Spike put the lube to use and… It didn't hurt, she supposed. After all, the chip prevented him from being too rough with her. But he wasn’t considerate either, not the way Angel had been last night. It was as if...

This had nothing to do with her – the realization hit her with stunning clarity. She was the battlefield on which some demon war was being fought.

Spike was inside her, but in contrast to his frantic attentions of a moment ago, he wasn't touching her, not really. This was barely sex, let alone lovemaking. All she could do was endure and wait for it to be over. Despite the pain in her heart, she loved Spike as much now as she ever had and if this was the price she paid for having hurt him, however unintentionally, then so be it. He kept thrusting and she concentrated on the rhythm of it, trying to pretend he even remembered that she was there.

Demon and man watched Spike’s cold taking of Willow. Angel couldn’t deny finding the spectacle arousing and he hated himself for that. But more than he hated himself, he hated Spike for hurting her…and he hated Willow for loving Spike enough to allow it.

She didn’t know any better though, did she? What she needed was someone to teach her; to heal her the way she healed others. Who better than the one who loved her? Angel undressed and joined the entangled pair on his bed. He’d start by showing Willow the tenderness Spike had denied her. Later, he’d give Spike a taste of his own medicine.

Tbc…


	21. Chapter Twenty

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty)

_Angel was above her – inside her – thrusts smooth and rhythmic – taking her to the edge of release. Finally, she tumbled over and he followed, the sound of a low growl in her ear: “Mine.”_

Even though Willow was alone now, safely tucked away in her room, the memories of last night still made her tremble. Angel…Spike…they were demons. She thought she’d known that before, but she hadn’t. Even ridged and fanged, she realized that she had somehow come to see them as creatures sort of like Buffy – humans with something extra. That was the way Oz had wanted to be seen – what Oz had wanted to be.

Neither Angel nor Spike were Oz.

She knew Angel hadn’t been asleep when she’d crawled out of his bed, residual discomfort from the night before stiffening her movement, and all but fled the room. For that matter, Spike hadn’t been sleeping either. But they had let her leave, eyes closed as if in restful slumber, as motionless as the corpses they in fact _were_. Still, she could _feel_ Angel’s wakefulness all the same. Was he able to watch her as she dressed and hurried away, even with his eyes closed?

Going through the drawers of her dresser in search of a change of clothes, she started at the sound of the door opening. “Spike,” she yelped as she whirled around, dropping a pair of panties as she clutched her chest. “What are you doing here?”

That was a good question, wasn’t it? But watching the tears form at the corner of her eyes, knowing she was still upset by how he'd treated her – no, guess the answer was no mystery after all. “Came to say I’m sorry.”

She was surprised, too surprised to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. She gave him an attempt at a cheerful grin. It wasn’t as if he’d forced her. She could have said no, could have left – there were a lot of things she could have done. She tried not to think about the fact that loving him actually meant that she’d had no choice at all. “It’s okay. I’m not upset or anything. Really.”

Spike stared into her eyes. He felt each splinter in the stake that what he saw drove through his heart. “You should be. No one should ever treat you like that.” He went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I wish I could promise you that I’d never do it again.” Oh how he wished he could promise that.

“You love him,” she said, as if it expiated his every wretched deed. Maybe to her it did.

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay. I know how it is with demons and all.” No need to mention that the school from which she’d graduated was founded last night in Angel’s bed. She’d had the knowledge long ago, after all; she had just never absorbed it, not really, not until Spike had… “Vampires don’t love the way humans do.”

“No, we don’t.” He held her close, breathing in the scent of sex that still clung to her. “I’m sorry I brought you into this.”

Willow wanted to ask if he’d feel the same way if it had worked – if Angel had fallen for him – but she didn’t. She took his apology for what it was and she held it like the roses he’d never give her. “I’m okay,” she said. It was true, after a fashion, but it was a lie because as long as she loved him, she’d never really be okay at all.

“I should let you shower – tend to all those human things.” He was uncomfortable now – still – always.

His arms weren’t around her anymore. That was probably just as well. Even after last night, when he touched her, the clouds in her mind formed themselves into castles, and she knew she couldn’t live in them. Maybe she hadn’t learned anything after all. Or maybe love just didn’t care. “Yeah, I have human stuff to do.” She tried to sound light and flip, but it didn’t quite come off.

A hand on her shoulder for the barest moment was all he offered before he left. Willow thought she might cry, but she didn’t. Instead, she picked up the panties from the floor, gathered a bra, a shirt and another peasant skirt, and headed for the shower.

Spike’s return was a bit unexpected, though what had _truly_ been a surprise was that Spike had left in the first place. “Where were you?” Angel asked. He was dressed and had been about to go check on Willow. He’d lain in bed worrying about her, wondering if he should have let her go. Last night – it had been intense, both physically and emotionally and he was concerned about how she was handling it all.

“Went to check on Red.” Spike almost enjoyed the look on Angel’s face – he did, in fact, until it registered that the pain meant that Willow had a place in Angel’s heart that Spike…

Never would.

If only he could tell himself that his sudden epiphany was pessimism and not truth.

“How is she?” Angel fought to keep his emotions in check.

Spike shrugged, affecting a casual air, as he replied, “Fine. Taking a shower right now. I’m thinking we should give her a few nights to rest. She's human and she's not used to all this.” There was no way in hell he wanted to tell Peaches that he’d apologized to the girl. His sire already knew too many of his weaknesses.

Obviously, he’d played this one all wrong. In seconds, he found himself pinned to the door with Angel’s hand around his throat.

“You bastard,” Angel hissed. “How can you be so…? You hurt her.”

“I know.” Was that regret Angel saw in Spike’s eyes? It caught him off guard and he released his hold on the boy’s neck. He backed away and watched as Spike went and sat on the couch. The next words were spoken so softly that Angel wasn’t sure he heard them at all. “I’m sorry.”

Spike wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. “You should have said that to _her_.”

It cost Spike more than he thought he’d be willing to pay, but he answered back, “Did.” And it was almost worth the price just to see the shock on his sire’s face.

“You apologized to Willow?”

“Yeah.”

Angel’s anger abated slightly, but not by much. After all, this meant that Spike had repaired what might otherwise have been a rift between himself and Willow.

How cruel was he? But the truth was that a part of him _was_ prepared to live with Willow’s suffering if it meant she might stop loving Spike. Guess there really was no danger of him losing his soul, now was there? Because his demon was right there, as much a part of him as his soul, and more than willing to help call the shots.

Spike just watched the subtle changes of expression that told him everything Angel was feeling. Emotion that strong? It confirmed what had slammed into him like a train just a few moments ago: It was never going to be the two of them. But that didn’t mean…

“You know, the way things are…it’s not that bad, is it?”

What? But before Angel could ask a single question, Spike continued. “I mean, I know it’s not _ideal_, but…I think we’re all gettin’ along pretty well, all told. You’ve got to admit, the shagging’s been neat.”

Angel said nothing, so Spike hit him with a cold, hard truth just like the one that had just nailed _him_ to the wall. “You know she doesn’t love you. If last night didn’t kill what the chit feels for me… This way, though, you still have what you want – or close to it, at any rate. We all do.”

That soulless, wretched bastard. What he said, what he was proposing…

What he said was the truth – and all Spike was suggesting was nothing more than accepting as permanent what Angel had accepted as a temporary arrangement with only the most perfunctory pangs of conscience.

Willow loved Spike – as hard as it was to accept, it was reality. And Spike was right: if the horrible way he’d used her hours ago hadn’t torn him from her heart, nothing would. There was still hope, however, that Angel could at least coax her to open her heart to include him. She already cared about him, enjoyed making love with him…no, all hope was not lost; it had just changed.

But she’d never be his – not his alone. Could he settle for that? Did he _want_ to settle for that? She was a creature of sunshine and optimism – or she had been. A short-term triangle had been one thing. Could he live with himself if he conspired to trap her forever in the grey half-life Spike’s selfish machinations had carved out for them?

“Do you think she’ll stay?”

It was morning. The house was a mess, she reeked of beef fat and old grease, her hair was stringy – none of it made Buffy move from her position on the couch.

Riley was gone. Again. Forever. He was gone and his beautiful, badass wife was gone and what was also gone was any small, petty hope that maybe someone she knew was more miserable and lost and pathetic than she was.

Oh sure, Riley had been the stand-up guy of the year with his speech about the ups and downs of life being just like wheels. Funny thing about wheels…you keep running on them as fast as you can and you get nowhere. You’re Amy and you’re a rat in more ways than one.

And of course that thought led Buffy straight to Willow – Willow, who she missed more than anything right now. Yes, she had Dawn, and things were better, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same as having someone who always had your back, even when you were wrong.

Guess this was the price she paid, though. It wasn’t as if she’d had _Willow’s_ back. Sitting here, trying her hardest, she couldn’t quite remember why she’d thought it was such a great idea to send Willow away. At the time, she’d had reasons – really noble-sounding, Giles-type reasons – but now they were gone and what was left was a space on the couch that should have been occupied by a best friend with red hair and supportive things to say and a voice in her head that whispered that she was selfish and just hadn’t wanted to deal with Willow’s problems because she was angry at her for bringing her back.

Somehow, she’d fix things, though, right? One day soon, when she knew she wouldn’t whine about herself, she’d call – or better yet, she’d just go to L.A. Yeah, that was it – she’d show up there live and in person and haul Willow right back home where she belonged. And so what if Willow still had the shakes? Buffy would hold her through them and everything would be okay.

Now all she had to do was think of how to explain to Spike about the destruction of his crypt. But that was some other vampire’s fault anyway…and besides, she was over Spike. He could stay in Los Angeles forever for all she cared. The only one Buffy wanted to see again was Willow.

She wasn’t going to think about Angel either.

Getting up from the couch at last, she trudged upstairs to take a long, hot shower. Soon, she told herself, soon, she would bring Willow home.

“Are you okay?” Willow wasn’t big on prying, but dark offices and Wesley didn’t seem to be a good match. Especially not at noon.

The sound of his voice worried her even more. “Yes, yes, I’m quite well. Thank you.” He turned on the desk lamp and Willow thought she saw a trace of red in his eyes. Had he been crying? She wasn’t going to ask. That would _definitely_ be prying. But what could he be so sad about?

A familiar feminine giggle and an equally familiar male voice carrying in from the lobby answered her question, especially when Wesley winced ever so slightly. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“No need.” Wesley squared his shoulders. He didn’t want or need pity. It wasn’t as if he and Fred had ever…but he’d thought that perhaps…that is, he’d _hoped_… “I’m fine, I assure you.”

Willow wanted to say something, but she and Wesley weren’t exactly close. Sure, he’d helped her and she was incredibly grateful, but somehow, even after what he’d done for her by calling the coven, they hadn’t bonded. She regretted that now. “Can I help with anything? A case maybe?” Changing the subject was all she had to offer.

“No.” He looked through her for a moment before remembering his manners. “I mean, thank you, but no. I just need…” He got up, considering his options. He could depart the hotel through the lobby. The voices were gone now and thus he could easily exit without seeing…

“I understand, you know?” Willow said quietly. “And I won’t say anything...” Her voiced trailed off.

She did understand; he could see that. But he couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t talk to anyone. “Thank you,” he said as he briefly touched her shoulder. Then he did just as he’d decided. If anyone needed help today, they’d have to get it from the others.

Willow sat on the edge of the desk, thinking about what she had just seen, and what she knew, and how strange it was that she and Wesley kind of had things in common right now.

Still, was it hateful and wrong that she was sort of happy for Fred and Gunn? She’d seen the way they’d been looking at each other. Not like Wesley really had a chance.

Anyway, even if Wesley didn’t know it, he was lucky. It might hurt, but he was free. The pain would fade and there’d be someone else – maybe someone better, or at least better for _him_. It wasn’t as if he and Fred had ever actually had anything; they hadn’t even kissed.

No, it really wasn’t anything like what Willow was going through at all, now that she thought of it.

As if on cue…

“Hey.”

She should have known this was a bad place to go if she wanted to avoid him. “Hi, Angel.”

There was no one he wanted to see more than he did her – and no one who he would have done better to avoid. Would she see his duplicity in his eyes? “Where is everybody?” he asked, affecting a casual smile.

Oh no…just the question she didn’t need. Time to lie. “Ummm… Wesley said he had a doctor’s appointment so he’s gonna be gone for the rest of the day, I think. Fred and Gunn are…I don’t know and I don’t know where Cordelia is either.” At least she wasn’t lying about Cordelia, right?

Her brow was furrowed adorably and Angel thought maybe he just fell for her a bit more than he already had. Oddly, that lessened his guilt. Maybe that was because he knew - _knew_ \- with all his heart that no one could love her more than he did. How could it be wrong for her to stay with someone who loved her that much?

“Are you okay?” he asked, still concerned about her after what she’d been through last night.

It was almost painful seeing the concern in his eyes. She wondered if Fred felt this guilty for not loving Wesley. Then she remembered the giggle. Yeah, being loved back by the one you wanted would make it kinda hard to think about guilt and stuff. She could understand that. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She softened her voice before adding, “A little sore.”

That last made Angel wince. “I should have stopped him.”

What? “No, it’s not your fault, really. Spike’s a demon, you know? I think he just sort of forgot the way us mortal types are when we... I mean he's just not used to touching and..." Her face flamed as she stammered out her apologia for the one she loved. "I didn’t mind, honest.”

Her eyes pleaded with him to let the matter drop and so he did. At any rate, he’d already had a good ‘talk’ with Spike about how to treat Willow and he was sure she’d never suffer anything like last night’s ill use again. “All right.” Time to turn to a pleasanter topic – something he’d been thinking about for days – something that might cheer her up. “You know, I haven’t taken you out to dinner since you’ve been here. If you’d like, there’s a really great place I know of and tonight we could…”

Okay – huh? “You don’t eat.”

He chuckled lightly and she felt like she had missed something. “You do. So what do you say? Dinner, a glass of wine, some conversation? “

Was he asking her on a date? Because… “That’s really sweet and all, it’s just…”

He held up his hand and she stopped, letting him speak instead. “I know what you’re going to say. But, Willow, we’ve made love – more than once. I think it’s only right that I at least take you out to dinner.”

There was logic there, even though the words ‘made love’ sounded wrong and false to her. “I guess so. It’s just…no place too fancy, okay? I don’t do fancy.” She was barely fit for McDonald’s with the clothes she’d brought with her, but she decided not to mention that. The last thing she wanted was for Angel to offer to buy her anything. She was still uncomfortably aware of the vampiric possessive streak he’d evinced last night.

“Noted.” He was smiling as he took her hand for a moment. “I better look around and see what everyone’s up to. In the meantime, get some rest. And be ready to go at 7:30.”

Tbc…


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-One)

For all her reservations, Willow had to admit that dinner had been kind of…well…fun. They’d gone to a restaurant for which Willow felt woefully underdressed, but they’d been seated in a secluded booth and after that, she’d managed to feel less conspicuous. Angel had even kept the gazing into her eyes to a minimum. Of course, the wine hadn’t hurt either.

She was still mellow – not quite tipsy, but close enough – as she and Angel strolled back into the hotel. He was holding her hand, she realized, but she didn’t try to extricate her fingers from his. The alcohol had made her sentimental and needy enough to crave contact – and now it suddenly brought something to mind out of the blue.

“I have to go back.” She saw Angel’s puzzled expression and hastened to elaborate. “To Sunnydale. Xander’s getting married next week. I can’t miss that.”

Willow’s words came out of nowhere and it took Angel a moment to catch up with her. When he did, a chill went through him. He’d thought they’d bonded tonight, that she’d enjoyed herself, and now she was talking about leaving. His earlier talk with Spike recurred to him – had they reached an accord for nothing?

As much as he hated the idea of her going away for even a day, he had to admit that he _did_ understand. He well knew how much she cherished her friendship with Xander. It might make no sense to Angel, but Willow’s ties to Xander were strong, even after that brief debacle he recalled from right before he left Sunnydale. “You should go,” he said, knowing that support would, after all, only help his own cause. “I just…” He cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I want you to come back.”

She almost wished he hadn’t said that. At the same time, she was glad. It wasn’t as if she could really stay in Sunnydale anymore, now was it? She knew Tara expected her to tell everyone the truth and once she did… Frankly, she was grateful to have Los Angeles as a refuge.

But how would Spike feel? With her gone, even for a few days, he’d have Angel all to himself. Could he accept her coming back, turning a twosome back into a threesome? If she didn’t come back, though, Angel might just ship Spike one-way to Sunnydale, just as he’d threatened to do before…before…

It was all so complicated. She was going to Sunnydale anyway. She couldn’t miss Xander’s wedding. She just couldn’t.

Angel watched as emotion after emotion flickered across Willow’s face. As simple as she often was to read sober, alcohol made her a child’s primer. “You’ll always be welcome here,” he said, hoping to reassure her without flat-out admitting that he and Spike had already decided the current arrangement should be permanent. How she would feel about them having talked it out so baldly was a concern.

Her brow remained slightly furrowed; her thoughts weren’t quieting substantially – though, did they ever? That was one of the things he loved most about her – that ever-whirring mind. He wondered why he hadn’t loved it long ago, but he supposed that didn’t really matter. Ultimately, who could say why they fell in love when they did or with whom they did? No one better than a vampire who’d loved a Slayer to attest to the fact that love made no sense.

Fatigue began to overtake her and Willow realized that the emotional roller coaster of the day, as well as the alcohol and her recent lack of sleep, had conspired to get the best of her. “I’m gonna go to bed, okay?” Willow said, hoping the word ‘bed’ didn’t sound suggestive.

As much as he wanted to invite her to spend the night in his room, he knew she’d take the invitation the wrong way. Besides, he wasn’t sure about spending a platonic night in bed with Spike included and he knew his presence was mandatory. Waking up with Willow in his arms, just the two of them? That might veer dangerously close to that perfect happiness which would destroy them all.

But one thing he could allow himself. “I’ll walk you to your room.” She had consumed a bit of wine, after all, and she could use an escort up the stairs.

Deciding that concession was the better part of valor, Willow allowed Angel to guide her upstairs. She was tipsier than she’d thought, she realized as she stumbled a bit and wound up leaning against Angel. That had been some wine.

The conversation didn’t resume and they navigated the way to Willow’s room in silence. But it wasn’t without its pleasures, at least not to Angel’s way of thinking. No one could blame him for enjoying bearing the weight of Willow’s soft, warm body as he helped her keep her balance. No, no one at all.

They reached the door too soon for his liking, but he didn’t try to prolong the evening. Instead, he gave her the barest of kisses and left her there.

The door to Angel’s room opened at last. About time, that was Spike’s view. He’d been waiting for what seemed like an eternity for his sire to return from the ‘dinner date’ Fred had slipped and told him about – not that he wouldn’t have figured it out anyway. With Red and Peaches both gone, assuming they were together would have been the safest of all bets.

But with the fair maiden needing a break from grown-up games…well…was it too much to hope that Angel might be of a mind for some quality time with Spike?

Of course, the first words out of Angel’s mouth pretty much killed all optimism.

“What are you doing here?” Angel feigned surprise (though the annoyance was genuine enough), but honestly, it wasn’t exactly a shock to see Spike here. The boy was a first-rate opportunist and it would be just like him to, in fraudulent innocence, exploit the very situation he’d created himself – Willow’s incapacity (though, to be fair, he did have to shoulder some of the responsibility for that).

“Just thought you might want some company.” And there it was…that very pantomime he had feared. What Spike was offering was anything but mere friendly companionship.

It wasn’t going to happen. That first morning? The shower? That had been a mistake. Earlier today, Spike had seemed to accept reality, but tonight demonstrated that some false hope still lingered and Angel intended to do nothing which might encourage it to remain.

“No.” Terse, succinct, direct. Hopefully that would work on Spike.

Bastard. That’s what Angel was – a soul-fucked, cruel, self-righteous, uncaring bastard. All Spike was asking for was some contact – not love, not even caring – just a night of mutual pleasure. It wasn't as if he was expecting Willow to be out of the picture forever; he was just offering his sire something to tide him over while the frail human chit recuperated. But instead of taking him up on the offer, what does Angel give him? One bloody word: No. Just one miserable, cold syllable.

For what might have been the thousandth or even the millionth time, Spike wondered why the hell he couldn’t love Willow instead. But no, every time he watched the way Angel’s eyes half-closed in thought, or the way his mouth grew tight when he was angry, Spike’s heart was bound ever more tightly to his sire. It felt as if the bonds were made of barbed wire dipped in holy water.

Was this what Willow felt like?

He wasn’t going to stay and give Angel the chance to cut into him any more deeply – not tonight anyway. “All right,” he said, getting up from the couch in a brisk, quick motion – and relishing the look of pole-axed, slack-jawed astonishment on Angel’s face. “Guess I’ll be off then.”

With that last shot, and without Angel having a chance to say another word, Spike was gone.

A few moments later, Angel realized that they hadn’t discussed Willow’s projected visit to Sunnydale. But that was probably all for the best. It would be better to talk at a time and under circumstances where Spike wasn’t expecting conversation to devolve into libidinous activities.

Locking his door, he undressed and got into bed. Tomorrow was as good a day as any to deal with the matter of Willow’s sentimental journey. Slumber, however, was elusive. He’d already grown so unaccustomed to sleeping alone.

Ugh. Willow was reminded of why she so rarely touched anything alcoholic by the headache that made itself known almost before she awoke. It wasn’t fair; she hadn’t even been that drunk.

Dragging herself out of bed, she was pathetically grateful for the Motrin waiting for her in the medicine cabinet.

She grimaced at the taste of toothpaste residue and Los Angeles tap water comingling in her glass as she washed down the tablets, but at least it meant that some relief was on its way. Medicine was supposed to taste bad, right?

There wasn’t any medicine that would fix what was _really_ ailing her, though, was there? No pills that would make her friends forgive her for lying to them, to make them believe she wasn’t an addict…or that would make her love Tara again.

She missed loving Tara. Her heart had been such a comfortable place when Tara lived there. Oh sure, there had been passion and desire, but what she longed for most was the peace and the sense of calm that loving Tara had given her. Not even Oz had so seamlessly woven himself into her feelings. Tara was her warm fireside and cup of tea on a cold winter’s night – or she had been. Now the fire was ash and the tea was hemlock, because Willow loved Spike.

What that meant was that there was more truth than Tara knew which needed to be told when Willow returned to Sunnydale. Morning light and sobriety had not changed her mind: Xander was getting married and Willow _would_ be there. But right after the wedding, she’d reveal – to Buffy, who could share it later – what she’d learned about her magic…and she would set Tara free.

There was a knock at her door. Eerily, she somehow knew it was Spike. Oh well, she thought as she stared down at her plaid flannel pajamas, it wasn't like he actually cared what she wore. “Come in,” she called out as she emerged from the bathroom.

Spike walked into the familiar room. Willow looked a bit the worse for wear, he thought, and he felt guilty, even after she spoke up and said, “Don’t mind me. I had a glass or two more of the wine than I should have last night. I’m not really much of a drinker.” She punctuated her words with a short, self-deprecating little laugh.

“You’d best leave the drinking to me then,” he responded, and he meant it. He realized anew how much of William still remained – the old world man who felt that drunkenness was unladylike. Or was that just how he felt about Willow? Either way, he was glad he hadn’t seen her last night, though he was reasonably sure she hadn’t been completely soused.

He looked sad, Willow thought, and she felt an odd, melancholy sort of gladness as she remembered the gift she had for him. It would be so nice to see him smile. “I’m going back for the wedding,” she blurted out.

What? What the hell was she on about? The wedding? Then he remembered – Xander was bonding himself for his whole short, miserable life in unholy matrimony to Anya. Guess it wasn’t a surprise that Willow wanted to be there to witness the tragic event (poor Anya; still, the whelp was her choice), but he was a bit taken aback by the news all the same. “Have you talked to Angel about this?”

“Yeah, last night. He’s okay with it.” Willow must have been well in her cups because Angelus was never _that_ good a liar, but Spike let it pass. “You know, this is a good thing, Spike. Because with me gone and you getting some time alone with Angel…”

Last night flashed before his eyes and before he could even think, he heard himself interrupt her with, “I’m going with you.”

Willow stared at him, eyes wide with shock, and Spike knew just how she felt. But it made sense now that he actually thought of it. He owed her, after all, for the other night, and how better to repay it than by helping her deal with her pals? This way, too, he could make sure no one – especially not Glinda – talked her into staying. And the both of them gone…Peaches eating his heart out with worry and jealousy…what better way to pay that bastard back for his cavalier treatment?

“But…I thought…” Willow’s voice spluttered into nothingness. Why didn’t Spike want to stay here with Angel? She held onto the wings sprouting from her heart with both hands. This did _not_ mean what she hoped and she knew it.

Spike saw the light flickering in her eyes and he knew he needed to extinguish it. He wasn’t cruel enough to let her dream. “Angel could do with a lonely day or two to appreciate what he’s got, wouldn’t you say?”

Even though she knew it had to be for a reason like that, it still hurt to hear. It was her own fault, though, wasn’t it? All of it. She might not know how or why, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. “He’ll come around, Spike. I know he will.” She let the hope she had no right to have for herself shine for Spike and she wrapped it up in tinsel and gave it to him.

The girl was a piece of work. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that all hope was lost…and so was any chance she had to walk away. She’d figure it out soon enough, and besides, maybe she wouldn’t want to break up this cozy little ménage à trois anyway. Not to be cruel, but what else was out there for the chit anyway? It wasn’t as if a powerful witch who palled around with vampires could just date any John or Jane who took her fancy. And anyhow, not to be arrogant, but how likely was it she’d be falling out of love with him any time in the near future?

No, he and Angel had settled on the best of all possible solutions. As much as Spike himself might want to let go and allow Willow’s little dream of a world where Angel would love who he should carry him along, he’d learned too well the lesson that fortune favoured not the brave but the pragmatic. And if sharing Angel was the only way to have him, then so be it. With the taste of Drusilla’s name bitter in his heart, he reminded himself that he was well used to sharing. At least this time he wouldn’t be left to his own devices while his lover shared their wares with profligate and foul abandon.

Spike was so quiet and Willow was disheartened by it. Guess she’d lost the knack of cheering people up somewhere along the line. Would that she hadn’t. “You’ll get to see Dawn,” she offered, a bit obliquely. “And hey, you can get the rest of your things from your crypt while we’re there.”

He fought the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek. “No need to sell me on the idea, pet. I’m the one who volunteered to come along.”

Stupid, stupid Willow. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I just…” Even she wasn’t sure what she meant, so she decided not to try to finish the sentence. “Anyway, we’ll leave the day before the wedding, okay? Oh! I need to rent a car.”

She was in a dither the instant she said that and Spike decided to leave her to her planning. He knew what she was like when she got on a tear. He murmured a few pleasantries and left the room, followed in short order by Willow herself, who headed downstairs – no doubt to use the phone.

He was in no hurry to tell Angel he was leaving; let the cold-blooded bastard be surprised. So Spike headed back to his room. He felt like getting some rest – keeping proper vampire hours again. It couldn’t hurt.

Poring over the guest list and the seating arrangements, Anya was grateful for The Magic Box. It was the only place she could even hear herself think right now, what with their apartment having been commandeered by Xander’s annoying relatives and her (alright, just as annoying) friends.

She sighed heavily. There seemed to be no way to arrange things that wouldn’t leave some of their guests offended or upset. Back when she’d first started planning, she’d pretty much counted on Willow as a kind of bridge, someone who could chat with both her side and Xander’s and keep everyone sorted out and feeling welcome. Willow was good at that. Even before Anya had realized that she actually _liked_ Willow, she’d acknowledged that.

But now… It wasn’t like Tara would be any use. Please. She couldn’t even talk to people she knew, let alone strangers. Buffy? Anya was too angry with her and besides, she reeked of Slayer and her side of the guest list needed to be kept well away from that girl. That left Dawn – and that was also a great big ‘no’ of an idea. Dawn was nice enough for a child, but it wasn’t like Anya could trust her not to say something tactless and offensive and Dawn didn’t respect her enough to listen to her advice about anything.

So Anya was going to have to spend her own reception, a time when she should be basking in the glow of being Mrs. Xander Harris, worrying about her friends incinerating Xander’s family. She sighed.

It sucked that Willow couldn’t be here.

Oh well. On the bright side, at least Xander hated most of his relatives so it wouldn’t lead to an early divorce if some of them just happened to die a gruesome, horrible death. But she still wished Willow would be at the wedding. Xander missed her. And so did Anya.

Tbc…


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Two)

Tomorrow, Willow was going to Sunnydale…home…or it used to be. But now, tonight, she was in Angel’s bed.

He was always a possessive and commanding lover, but tonight he was more intense than he’d ever been. No worries about him losing his soul. The demon flickered in his golden eyes, glistened at the edge of the fangs that dropped down.

It was all so wrong – so terribly, horribly wrong. That didn’t stop her from finding ecstasy with Angel inside her. For all that she didn’t love him, he took her to heights she’d never known all the same. His hands were skilled and the rhythm of his movement – relentless and sure – it was as if he knew things about her that were kept secret from herself.

Angel rolled over, wanting Willow to ride him, wanting to take in the sight of her astride him, needing to store the vision away to keep him company while she was gone.

It would only be a day or two. It would only be a lifetime.

She let his hands on her hips guide her. Even with her on top, Angel was still in charge. There was a high like nothing his demon had ever felt in mastering so much power. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed. The sweat glistening on her skin was a painting and the cry as she found release was a psalm.

It wasn’t long before he followed her, but what his demon howled was nothing like the purity of her song.

Spike watched Angel and Willow, transfixed. Jealous? Yes. But there was no denying the beautiful picture they made and he couldn’t help but find it arousing.

He left the chair in which he’d been sitting and strode to the bed. Red was collapsed, panting, eyes still closed, lying beside Angel. Spike found his way between Angel’s legs. He didn’t wait for permission, taking Angel’s cock in his mouth, tasting Willow along its length.

Funny that it hadn’t hit him before – not as if this was the first time – but now the way the taste of her and his sire wound through each other, the way he was taking them both in at once… it made Spike see something preordained in this. It was one more instance of Fate using him as its tool, wasn’t it?

Angel lay back, letting Spike work his magic. There was, after all, no arguing with the fact that his boy could suck cock with a skill that surpassed the most gifted of whores. Up and down, in and out… Angel moaned and reached out to stroke Willow’s hair, wanting to draw her into this somehow. As long as she was part of the triangle, the fact that it _was_ a triangle wasn’t so bad, was it?

The next morning began in a way that was becoming disquietingly familiar – waking up with Angel’s arms wrapped around her. There’d be a break in the routine starting today, though, wouldn’t there? Because in a matter of hours, she and Spike would be driving back to Sunnydale.

Xander was getting married. He’d found the one person in all the world who could make him happy – a woman he loved and who loved him back. She supposed that maybe she envied him – after all, that was never going to happen to her – but the strongest emotion she felt was gladness. Xander’s life had been such a meager thing in so many ways; Willow couldn’t begrudge him this. Okay, his taste in lovers might be a bit off-kilter, though Anya had grown on her, but all that really mattered was the fact that each was who the other wanted to spend the rest of their life with.

Honestly, what a part of her was _really_ wondering about the ceremony, and about how the heck they were going to explain Anya’s friends to Xander’s family. For the first time ever, Willow was kind of glad that Xander’s relatives tended to view the world from the bottom of a bottle of cheap grain alcohol. Because there was no way her friends were going to come up with a cover story that would stand the weight of reasoned, sober scrutiny.

Angel felt it the moment Willow awoke and he, too, was roused from slumber. “Penny for them?” he asked softly, almost hearing the wheels in her head turning.

She started; the movement arousing him. He fought to get himself under control.

“Nothing,” she finally answered. “I mean, I’m not thinking about anything.” He let her go and they both shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

“Nice to know you’re both awake,” came Spike’s voice from behind Angel. “Guess that means I can go take a shower.” Willow watched as he got out of bed and walked, naked, towards the bathroom. He stopped for a moment and looked back. “Anyone care to join me?” He said ‘anyone’, but Willow knew he meant ‘Angel’. She shook her head anyway, even if it was pointless. Her heart broke a little for Spike because Angel didn’t even turn to look at him.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from flashing gold at the way his sire ignored him, but Spike said nothing. He just headed into the bathroom. A shower…yeah. Wonder how much hot water it would take to warm him after the cold treatment from the man he loved?

With Spike gone, Angel reveled in the chance to be alone – in bed – with Willow. No, he wouldn’t risk making love to her, even knowing that Spike was in the next room, but it was still wonderful to have some quiet, intimate time with her – especially now that she was awake.

“I won’t tell Buffy about Connor.” It wasn’t quite the conversation Angel had set out to have with her.

“I know.” And that was truth itself. It had never occurred to him that she’d tell Buffy anything.

There wasn’t much more to say after that, though. He could tell that sentimental talk wouldn’t be welcome. So he held her in the silence, memorizing the fit of her body against his , the feel of the downy hair on her arms, the gentle curve of her waist.

He would miss her, but she was coming back – he kept reminding himself of that.

The day had flown by. Willow had made sure to pack everything she’d need for a couple of days but nothing more, and she’d even made space to tuck a surprise wedding gift from Cordelia into her bag. Now it was nightfall – time to leave.

It was almost as if they were being sent off to college…or war. Everyone was in the lobby to see Willow and Spike off to Sunnydale. It did her heart good in some ways to see that – at least in the case of Gunn, Fred, and Lorne – Spike was being treated like a friend and comrade who’d be missed. If only Angel would express that sort of sentiment. Oh sure, he was being polite and all, but… Of course, really, nothing short of love would smooth the pain-filled lines around Spike’s eyes and Willow knew that too well. It ached that _her_ love didn’t help a bit.

“We better go, Red.”

She nodded. “Yeah.” But before she could turn for the door, she found herself pulled into Angel’s arms. “Be careful,” he said, followed by a softly whispered, “I love you.” She wondered if he thought that would lure her back sooner.

Spike’s jaw clenched and his mouth was a tight line. The others hadn’t heard Angel’s final words to Willow, but he had, and while he might have adjusted intellectually to the idea that this was the way things were and it was the three of them or nothing, Spike’s heart was still mutinous. You’d have thought Dru would have burned the romantic out of him for good and all, but William seemed to have a foothold he was loathe to give up, weak milksop though he was. Well, he’d better learn, now hadn’t he?

Cordelia said little – she and Willow had pretty much done the goodbye thing earlier – but she watched carefully and she stored what she saw in the back of her mind to mull over later. Things had been strange around here for at least a week (well, strang_er_) and she was concerned.

The most bizarre part about that concern? It was Willow she was worried about the most. Oh sure, Angel was acting weird and broody, when he wasn’t acting weird and staring at Willow all googly-eyed, but he was always doing the tormented thing. But Willow? Call her wacky, but Cordelia figured Willow deserved a little bit of good cheer for all the life-saving and general magic-y goodness. But no – even after getting rid of that badly-dressed lump of a girlfriend, Willow was still out-angsting Angel. And she didn’t even want to _think_ about Spike’s role in the whole mess. The way her mind was working - it was just way too Jerry Springer for Cordelia’s taste.

Somehow, she didn’t think going back to Sunnyhell was going to do much in the way of steering Willow to the power of positive thinking, either. But there was nothing she could do…except stand here and watch as Willow and Spike headed out the door.

Oh, and – later on – have a little chat with Angel.

Just like on the drive _from_ Sunnydale, Willow let him control the CD player, and for that Spike was again grateful. No offense to her, but those overwrought girl singer-songwriters she favoured were godawful. Maybe now that she was driving stick again, her taste would improve, but he somehow doubted it. He’d once caught a listen to that band the wolf had been in and his ears had bled for a week. Chit just had no appreciation for the good stuff – well, at least musically. Couldn’t fault her current taste in men, even if it was damn inconvenient.

“I know you’re awake,” he said at last. She was laying back in the passenger seat, her eyes closed, feigning sleep. She should have known that vampires never fell for that act. The difference in respiration was obvious to all but the most pathetic fledge.

Almost reluctantly, Willow opened her eyes. Guess there was no fooling a vamp. Probably a predator thing. “I was just resting my eyes.”

Spike snorted, but otherwise let it pass. “Before we get back there, I just want to get one thing straight, okay?” Willow nodded and he continued. “There’s no way in hell I’m attending Harris’s wedding.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t actually think you’re invited,” she replied, but her tone was light and she was happy to see that Spike was smiling at her.

“Why don’t you try to get some shut-eye after all, pet,” he said gently after a moment, not wanting further conversation to destroy the afterglow of what had been a nice, friendly moment. “I’m thinking you’ll need all your strength for the goings-on.”

She said nothing. Maybe she felt the same. All Spike knew was that she reclined the seat back even further and closed her eyes again. Sooner than he expected, she was truly asleep…and she still had that sweet smile on her face. He was never going to understand her.

A gentle jostling of her shoulder roused Willow, along with a familiar British accent saying, “Here we are, Red. Home, sweet Hellmouth.”

What do you know? It really was. Funny how Sunnydale looked like some odd, foreign land to her now. Such a short time away and yet somehow she’d grown used to smog and graffiti and dirt and Sunnydale with its almost immaculate streets and minimal traffic looked like Mayberry or some place equally phony. It didn’t look like home – not anymore.

But more than that, she felt different here, too. Odd and almost…itchy. It registered almost immediately what that feeling was, too. It was a pull on her magic. Now, for the first time, she understood how she’d gone wrong. “It’s the Hellmouth,” she said softly.

What was she on about? “Yeah, it is.”

“No, I mean, that’s what happened to me, why I went so far off the deep end with my magic, why I lost control. It’s the energy here. I didn’t realize that before.”

Well that was something to hear. But now that he thought about it, Spike wasn’t the least bit shocked by what she said. The energy this place gave off was different. It was like a magnet for darkness. Only made sense that it would work even on those who’d always lived here – pulling them into the abyss if it could find the hook within them. Especially if the fish had no idea there was a hook there at all. And a good girl like Willow would be easy prey, wouldn’t she?

“Wanna turn back?”

Her face was grave and thoughtful for a moment. “No. I think I can handle it for a little while. Just…” She turned towards him and took his hand, serious as anything. “Don’t let me do any magic, okay? And if you think I’m…”

“I’ll take care of ya,” he replied, as serious as she was. It was a promise.

“I wonder why they didn’t tell Wesley about this.”

“Maybe they never thought you’d be coming back here.” Spike thought for a moment and then added, “Or maybe they thought you were strong enough to deal with it. You came a long way fast, pet. Maybe too fast. Must be hard for anyone to believe someone with so much power is really just a girl inside.” He hoped she wouldn’t take that last as an insult. It wasn’t.

Willow sighed and looked out the window again, this time focusing on her parents’ neat, tidy home. They’d decided that staying there was their best option. Spike’s crypt wasn ‘t exactly Willow’s idea of a luxury vacation destination.

“We better go in and get squared away.”

“You sure your parents aren’t about?”

“Nope. They’re in Brussels right now and then I think it’s Amsterdam…or Vienna. I need to look up their last email to be sure.” She almost choked on the words. Not a single personal sentiment had crept into that email. It was just an itinerary without even a note. All these years and her parents’ indifference still hurt her. Sending her the itinerary was the closest to familial they ever got anymore – especially since her mother had been forced to accept that Willow wasn’t sleeping with Tara as a feminist statement. Leave it to Sheila Rosenberg to think it was better to have sex with a woman for political reasons than because you loved her. It made her wonder why her mother had married Ira.

It made her wonder why her mother had become a mother.

They got out of the car, Spike showing a rather unexpected chivalry as he grabbed both their bags, and headed up the walk to Willow’s door. But just as Willow turned the key and opened the door, Spike whispered, “Someone’s here.”

“What?”

“I hear another heartbeat, Red. Someone’s here.”

Oh goddess. “Okay. Wait here. Let me go see who it is, okay?”

“Are you kidding? You told me not to let you do magic. If it’s some thief or something…”

“Your chip, remember? Spike, just wait here. I promise not to do magic or even to be brave. I just want to see what’s going on.” She shouldn’t have mentioned the chip, and she knew it.

The reminder of his uselessness made him surly. “Fine. Have it your own way.”

It was too late to fix the damage she’d done, so she simply stepped cautiously and quietly into the house. Something made her forego casing any of the rooms on the main floor, instead drawing her straight to the stairs.

A thin wedge of light peeked out from under the door to her bedroom and she wondered why they hadn’t noticed it as they’d walked up to the house. Someone was in her room.

What was the right thing to do? Call out? Throw open the door? Go back down and get Spike? Okay, the last one was probably what a prudent person would do, but…

Without even finishing the process of thinking it through, Willow burst into her old bedroom and…

“Xander?”

In seconds, she found herself pulled into a bear hug by her oldest friend. She couldn’t breathe and oddly, she didn’t care. Oxygen was overrated anyway.

“You’re here.” Xander couldn’t believe it. His best friend…“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Oi, whelp. Might wanna let ‘er breathe.” Not like Spike was actually gonna wait while Willow skulked around the house, now was it?

Oh great. The fangless wonder was here, too. But Xander had to admit he had a point, so he loosened his hold on Willow, who was breathing a bit more deeply than usual afterwards. “Sorry, Will.”

“What are you doing here? I mean, not that you’re not always welcome and all, but…don’t you have wedding stuff?”

“Oh that,” Xander said, not really wanting to give too much away in front of Spike. He took a deep breath and decided to leave the details about sneaking out in disgust and humiliation after Uncle Rory came on to a Grevlak demon – a male Grevlak demon – and his Dad puked in Buffy’s purse for another day when he and Willow were alone. “Things were winding down and I decided to take a break and… I missed you so much. It just didn’t seem right to get married without at least sort of talking to you and…”

“Well, here I am,” Willow said. Her eyes were full of tears. “I couldn’t let you do the biggest and most important thing you’ve ever done without me, now could I?”

Bloody hell. All this sentimental slop was making Spike nauseous. With a curt, “I’ll be downstairs watching telly,” that he was pretty sure neither of them paid attention to, he suited the action to the tune and did just that.

And no, he wasn’t jealous that Xander Harris, of all people, had found someone he loved who loved him right back and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He wasn’t jealous at all.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Xander said, staring at Willow as if she were all the wonders of the world rolled into one. “That you came back for…”

“I meant what I said. There’s no way I was gonna let you do this without me being there.”

“But…what about…I mean…”

She was going to have to tell him what she’d learned about herself, but now wasn’t the time. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Xander believed her. Because Willow was always right – at least, she always had been – and hey, she was Willow and she was strong and smart and nothing could defeat her…and because he couldn’t bear it if something terrible happened to her because she’d come back to be at his wedding.

Xander hugged her again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

If it was bittersweet that the one person in her life now to whom she could say those words and from whom she could hear them said back in the fullness of truth was a friend and not a lover, it didn’t make the moment any less profound or important.

Willow kissed him on the cheek and the two of them sat down on her bed. “So, how’s everything been going? Are you all excited about being a married guy?”

Tbc…


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Three)

Chubs had finally departed after one last tearful scene at the front door and just now Willow had gone upstairs for the night. Before she’d done so, though, she’d shown him where the guest room and the shower were and stashed his blood in the fridge. In other words, everything was squared away. So why did Spike feel so damned uncomfortable – and as if something needed to be fixed?

Guilt… That blasted chip had made him soft. He was still eating himself up over that business in Angel’s bed the other night. Hell, he’d barely touched her since. But he’d apologized, hadn’t he? And she’d accepted. So it should be over and done with, right?

It wasn’t. Damn it to hell.

Spike got up off the couch. Not like there was anything on the telly anyway. Her bloody parents were obviously lunatics – no cable.

The stairs took no time at all to climb and soon enough he was at her door. If he was gonna be a ponce, he might as well go all out. He knocked. “Red? Can I come in?”

“Spike.” It was almost a question. What was he doing up here? “Did you need something?” She thought she’d shown him where everything was.

“Kinda need to talk to you, pet.”

“Okay.” She stepped back and let him walk into the room, wincing in anticipation of what he’d say about the girlish décor.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead he kept looking around nervously. “I… I wanted to apologize to you.”

Huh? There wasn’t any reason for him to be sorry for anything, not that she could think of, anyway, unless he meant…”It’s okay, Spike. I sort of like the Sex Pistols now.”

Leave it to Willow to think he meant the bloody _music_. “Don’t mean that. I mean for…you know…the other night…when I…”

Oh. “You already said you were sorry and I accepted. We’re good. I promise.” She gave him a perky grin and hoped it reached her eyes. This new apology made her feel all twisted up inside.

If he’d thought it once, he’d thought it a thousand times – he was never going to understand this girl…or maybe he already understood her too well.

“We shouldn’t be good – not at all. You should be mad as hell. No one has the right to treat you the way I did, no matter what their excuse is or what you feel for them or…” He pulled her into his arms, hoping he didn’t give in and let a single tear fall. She was pathetic, the way she loved him. He didn’t deserve it.

If he wasn’t crying, she was. He could feel the warmth of her tears against his shirt. Her words belied them, though. “It’s okay. Really.”

“Let me make it up to you.” Spike had no idea what he was saying until the words were spoken. “Your bed looks big enough for two.”

What did he mean? Did he…? Despite her acceptance of his apologies, she had to admit that she was nervous about…

“I don’t mean that,” he said, seeming to read her thoughts. “Let me hold you, alright? Just you and me, all snuggled up. Be nice, wouldn’t it?” He was almost pleading and Willow’s heart hurt for him…and for herself.

Now that the offer was made, he wasn’t going to take it back, but Spike wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. Did he really want to do this?

Yeah, he did. After all, she’d be staying in Los Angeles and, hell, she already loved him anyway. What harm was there in being sweet to the girl? He owed her that. He’d been a bastard to her. What he’d done… It was a damn sight more Angelus than it had ever been Spike, even in the old days. He realized that he needed this tenderness as much as Willow did. He hated himself and it was agonizing.

“Please?”

That last word took what was left of Willow’s self-control and she completely broke down. “Shh…s’okay.” All she could feel was Spike’s hand rubbing circles on her back through the flannel of her pajamas and his chest against her cheek. If he hadn’t said the three words she dreamt of hearing, that one word was something in and of itself. He cared. Maybe he didn’t love her, but he cared. That was something.

That was everything.

A moment later, he let her go and she turned down the covers to her bed. “I can get you some sweatpants of my dad’s to sleep in if you want.”

He chuckled. It felt odd and tight. “That’d be… Yeah. Thanks.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in clothes if his bed wasn’t empty or he wasn’t rat-arsed.

She was only gone for a moment, and when she came back, she had a pair of black cotton pants. They hung a bit loose, but the drawstring ought to keep them in place, he decided. Changing in the bathroom, he came out and found that she’d already crawled into bed. He got in behind her, pulling her against him. Her warmth was pleasant – more than that, really. “Get some rest, luv. Your boy’s getting’ married tomorrow.”

Willow giggled softly at the feel of his cool breath on her neck, but she said nothing in response. She cradled his offhand ‘luv’ in her heart and willed herself to do as he said. Just like in the car, she was asleep in no time.

“You don’t have to go. Really. I’ll understand if you’d rather just stay here. I mean yesterday you even said you weren’t going and…”

“What? Stay trapped here with no cable when I could be watching Harris make an arse of himself in a tuxedo? Not bloody likely.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know he looks pretty good in formal wear.” Willow’s mind drifted far away, back to the warehouse…how very differently she’d thought of Spike then. No, she hadn’t loved him at all – hadn’t even thought he was that good-looking. Oh how she had changed. It might be better if she hadn’t.

Last night, cradled in his arms, her heart had tried with all its might to grow wings and fly again. It had taken more strength of mind than she thought she possessed to clip them when she woke. They bled and hurt within her.

But today wasn’t her day and it wasn’t the time to think about her own troubles. After all, more awaited her after the wedding and she didn’t need to borrow any heartache. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? What with it being daytime and all?”

Her concern was more touching than it should have been given that the question was so obvious even the Slayer might have asked it. “Yeah, it’s raining a bit and the clouds are pretty thick. Blanket and an umbrella ought to get me to the car and those tinted windows in the back seat ought to do the job on the drive.”

“Well, if you start to get all flame-y, let me know, okay?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, pet, if I’m on fire, you’ll know it.”

Willow went out and backed the car into the driveway, wondering belatedly why Spike had parked on the street last night. Of course, she’d have probably done the same thing. Other than her room, this really wasn’t home, was it?

She opened the rear door and went to get Spike.

Xander was getting married.

“Spike.” Buffy could barely breathe. What was he doing here? She was torn between staking him and dragging him into a back room and fucking his brains out. The need that never quite went away filled her up. If he’d stayed in Los Angeles, she’d have had a chance to kill it once and for all.

“Slayer.” His voice was indifferent, as if they’d never… He’d once said he loved her. Had he just said that in the hopes that he could bag his third Slayer in the only way the chip would let him?

“So…”

He fought the urge to smirk, but found a way to mock her all the same. “So.” Easy…so easy…too easy. How had he fallen for her? It was over now, but he’d felt for her once and the shame burned as hot as the lust he could smell, dank and musky, between her legs. She’d shag him senseless right here at her best friend’s wedding.

Buffy struggled to match his casual manner, aware even as she did that he’d know it was false. “Is Willow here?”

“Yeah. She’s looking for the whelp. Can’t think what more she has to say to him after last night, but…”

“He saw her last night?”

Direct hit. Deciding not to explain that the boy had been taken by surprise during a break and enter, Spike simply said, “They had a nice, long chat. You know, the usual for those two. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.”

Spike watched the pain bloom in her eyes and for a moment he wondered why he was enjoying it so much, why he almost hated her. Then he remembered holding Willow last night and knowing what she was dreaming of even before she fell asleep and he knew exactly why.

“Buffy!” Dawn was almost hysterical…even more so, but in a different way, once she saw who her sister was talking to. “Oh gosh! Spike!” She grabbed him and hugged him, so thrilled to see him that she almost forgot that there was something very wrong. “Xander’s gone!”

Willow was scouring the building, hoping against hope that Xander was just lost somewhere. It could happen. This place was almost a maze. Who knew a Bison Lodge would have so many rooms in it?

From the sound of things, it was time for the wedding to start. He had to be here; he just had to be. Xander couldn’t be stupid enough to throw away…

No, he couldn’t. Xander wasn’t like her. He wouldn’t let go of someone who loved him the way Anya did. Not after everything he’d been through.

Methodically working her way through the rooms back towards the hall, she could now hear what sounded like… the Harris family at her Bat Mitvah. Great. They could never behave for Xander’s sake, never act for one second as if they loved him or even respected him.

But if anything, didn’t this give all the more credence to her certainty that Xander would never foolishly abandon his one chance to have the kind of family he’d always dreamt of?

A gasp from the doorway startled her. “W-willow. I wasn’t…I mean…”

Willow turned and saw Tara…her girl…wearing the ugliest bright green dress imaginable. “Hey.” What else was she supposed to say? “It’s…it’s good to see you.”

“You, too.” Tara found herself wishing her hair wasn’t pulled back. It was comforting to have it to hide behind when she was nervous. And right now? With Willow standing here in front of her? She was very, very nervous. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but she was. Somehow, though, she found the courage to ask, “Are you…I mean…is this… Have you come home?” She couldn’t help but hope, even with all the issues about magic and Angel and Spike they would have to deal with.

Willow shattered. But she couldn’t lie. She just couldn’t. She, of all people, understood the vicious cruelty of false hope, the way it mocked you and tortured you and made holes in your heart that could never be fixed. “No. I’m here for the… I’m not coming back. Not to stay. Not ever.” She wanted to tell Tara about the Hellmouth, about the pull of the darkness she could feel even now, but… She was better than that, and Tara _deserved_ better than that. She deserved a clean break so she could find someone wonderful who would love her forever and ever – the way she deserved to be.

Because Tara was beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and caring, and…

Crying.

Tara could feel Willow’s arms pulling her close and she didn’t fight it, even though she felt stupid for reacting like this. She’d known, right? She’d already known. So why did it hurt so much? Why did she feel like she was dying?

She hated Angel and Spike and every one of those horrible people who were taking her girl away –_her_ girl. Because she’d seen how special Willow was long before any of them and now they were just stepping in and... How could they do this? How could Willow let them?

“I’m so sorry,” she could hear Willow say over and over and over, “I’m so sorry.”

“Guys,” Buffy burst into the room. “Xander called off the wedding.” She was taken aback when she absorbed what she was seeing. Why was Tara crying? Still, there was no time for questions right now. There was a full-blown disaster happening in the hall.

“What?” Willow let go of Tara and whipped around to face Buffy. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real. “Why would he…?”

“Some old victim of Anya’s did something and…” The first time Buffy had seen Willow in months and it had to be like this – no ‘how are you’s’ no catching up, just badness.

No. Without even letting Buffy finish and without saying another word, Willow dashed from the room. She had to find Xander. There was still time. There had to be time to fix this.

Running out the door of the hall, she only barely caught a glimpse of Spike out of the corner of her eye as she hurried off to find Xander.

Luckily, he hadn’t gone far.

“Hey, slow down there, buddy. The Bison Lodge is back in the other direction.” Willow tried to smile, despite the fact that she was panicking and somewhat winded.

He wanted to keep going, to pretend that he hadn’t heard her, to break into a run and get far away. It was funny - yes, he’d hurt Anya, but this was for Anya’s own good. Letting Willow down, though…how could he face that?

“Will, I…”

She’d known Xander forever – suddenly that meant more than she’d ever realized. And part of what it meant was that, without any way of really knowing what happened, she was certain she knew nonetheless – and she was sure that she knew what to do. It involved the two weapons she’d held in her arsenal long before stakes and spells and holy water and hexes had shoved them to the bottom of the pile.

Putting on her Resolve Face, she started talking.

“Look, I know you have an explanation and that you think it’s a good one. But it isn’t. Because there’s nothing good about what you’re doing.” She raised her hand and the mouth he’d opened to interrupt her with snapped closed. “You have something – love, real love – and a chance to be happy, happier than any of us. And look, it doesn’t take a genius to know that after seeing your family, you’re worried about being like them.” She took his hands and gazed into his eyes, willing him to see reflected in them the wonderful person she saw. “You are _nothing_ like them, Xander Harris. You are _nothing_ like them, do you hear me? You’re you and nobody else. You’re warm and loving and funny and you look wonderful in a tuxedo and…”

“I…”

Willow’s eyes filled with tears and everything she’d never have, everything Xander was about to stupidly give up, flashed before her eyes. She let him have it. “Go back. Please. Go back. Because if you don’t, if you throw this away, I swear I will…” She almost said that she’d never forgive him, but she stopped herself because it wasn’t true. It was herself she wouldn’t forgive.

“It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late! I swear it’s not too late. Please!” She was begging. Willow was _begging_. If she were down on her knees right now, it wouldn’t have affected Xander more.

She meant what she was saying, and Xander wanted so much to believe her. It was just…but Willow… Who was he going to listen to was what it came down to – was he going to go with his gut or hers?

He loved Anya and he loved Willow. Both of those women thought he was someone, but… Even if the demon had been…well, a demon and not the future him, he’d touched on some scary and very real possibilities. Could Xander risk being the man his father was? Could he risk hurting Anya?

He already had, hadn’t he?

“I promise you,” Willow said. “She loves you. You love her. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

“I… You’ve always been the smart one, right? You _know_ this? For sure?”

“I do…and hey, that’s what _you’re_ supposed to be saying right now. Let’s get back there and make this right.”

Xander closed his eyes – and made the choice of whose voice to listen to.

“Yeah, let’s get back before my family trashes the hall.”

Willow grabbed him and hugged him. “Race you to the Bison Lodge,” she choked out.

And that’s just what they did.

  
Tbc...


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Four)

The wedding was over and despite the worse-for-wear hall and the worst efforts of Xander’s family, it had been beautiful.

Even the part where Anya had vowed to always be Xander’s sex poodle.

What they were all doing back at her parents’ house, Willow wasn’t quite so sure about, but here they were.

“Aren’t you newlywed types supposed to be off on a honeymoon or something?” Spike groused.

“Xander and I don’t need to spend money on a hotel room in some strange city to have sex. We have plenty of sex in our own apartment. Besides,” she said, beaming at the erstwhile hostess of this impromptu private reception, “Willow is here.” She reached out and squeezed Willow’s hand, more than grateful. Because even though she hadn't gotten back in time to save last night from being a disaster, she'd made up for it today.

“Yeah, I think spending time with my,” Xander cast his eyes at Anya, “I mean _our_ best friend is more of a priority right now.” He still couldn’t believe how close he'd come to ruining his own life.

“You did good,” Buffy added, trying for a cheerful grin. She should be happy. Xander and Anya had gotten married. Willow had come home. Those were all good things, right? So why did she have an ache in her gut and a head full of questions? Something was wrong. Scratch that, plenty of things were wrong. Like why Tara had been crying and why Spike was acting as if he barely knew her and…

“So, does this mean you’re back home to stay now?” Dawn asked. What she wanted to add was to ask if that was why Tara wasn’t here. Was she packing her stuff and moving back into their house with Willow? If she was, then today would be the best day ever.

Much to Willow’s dismay, Spike answered before she could. “Sorry, Bit. We’re just here for the wedding.”

“Oh.” Dawn looked crestfallen and for a moment Willow was angry with Spike, but then she realized he hadn’t said it any differently from how she would have, really. It wasn’t as if she could have lied.

“I’m sorry, Dawnie,” she said.

“I kind of figured you’d have shown up at Buffy’s if you were going to stay,” Xander said, though he smiled softly and then added, “I’m still glad you’re here. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“Yes, because we wouldn’t even be married,” Anya chirped. She did wish Willow was going to stay, but she hadn’t expected it. What was really bothering her were the questions she couldn’t ask, because pestering Willow with them would be wrong, at least today. How long would she owe Willow for what she’d done for her, anyway? Probably a very long time, she realized as she gazed at the ring on her finger. Yes, it would be a very, very long time.

“Is that why Tara’s not here?” Dawn interrupted. “Because you’re leaving again?”

Buffy waited expectantly, wondering for a moment why she was so anxious about what the answer was.

“That’s part of it. I… Tara and I won’t be getting back together.”

Spike was actually proud of Willow right about now. He knew just how invested Dawn was in the whole ‘Tara and Willow forever’ nonsense and it took guts to burst her bubble. He was very fond of Niblet, but she did have odd taste in delusions and her sister’s special brand of stubbornness when it came to seeing the world her own way.

He could see Dawn wasn’t going to give up easily. “Why not?” she asked, her voice choked with tears.

Xander wasn’t wondering that at all. And from the look on Anya’s face, she wasn’t either. He might not be sure what exactly was going on, but he’d known when he saw Willow in Los Angeles – when she hadn’t said a word about Tara – that she didn’t have a girlfriend anymore, even if Tara hadn’t known that yet.

“I think that’s between Willow and Tara,” Buffy interjected. She was watching Spike – the way he seemed to be almost standing guard over Willow – and she had a sick feeling inside that told her what the reason probably was…and she didn’t want to hear it out loud. “How are you handling things? With the magic, I mean?” As a subject-changer, it seemed almost cruel. Maybe that was how she felt right now.

Willow was both grateful and nauseous all at once. She had to tell the truth sometime, though, or at least an edited version. Now was as good a time as any, even if she wasn’t actually prepared. After all, would she ever have been? “It’s… it’s kind of complicated. I found out stuff – I mean _Wesley_ found out stuff and… Could you guys all sit down? I have a bunch of things to tell you.”

Everyone who wasn’t already sitting complied. Anya grunted with annoyance as she and Xander were forced to scoot over and make room for Buffy and Dawn on the sofa. Spike wasn’t sitting, which was probably good since there was no room on the couch now. But it didn’t seem fair, even if he probably already knew whatever it was Willow was going to say. Willow had asked _everyone_ to sit.

“Want me to tell ‘em?” Spike asked, almost hoping she said yes. All that sentimental sap he’d endured at the wedding made him hungry for pain, and the little bit of frustration and longing he’d drawn from Buffy wasn’t nearly enough to sate his appetite.

Unfortunately, she simply gave him that sad smile of hers, the one that spoke of hard duty and moral rectitude, and turned back to face her motley crew of onetime friends. “I’m…I’m not exactly a magic addict.”

There wasn’t a sound, not a single sound, for what seemed like an eternity. The expression on every face went through a series of changes as the seconds ticked by. But then, naturally, someone finally spoke.

It was Xander.

“What do you mean, Will?”

Spike looked like he was going to interrupt – Willow knew he’d been itching to belittle Xander all day – but she shot him a glance and he stayed quiet. “Wesley talked to some people – well to a coven actually. A really big, important, powerful coven. And they said that my magic is a gift and that the reason I went haywire is that I was misusing it, being selfish and arrogant. It’s supposed to be used to help people and do good and…”

“That’s great news,” Xander cried, leaping off the couch and pulling Willow into a tight hug. And, forgetting what she’d just said a few minutes ago, he added. “That means you can come home, right?”

Buffy’s reaction was much more subdued. “Are you sure about this, Willow?”

Anya was about to say something cutting in Willow’s defense when Willow began speaking again. “I’m sure,” she said, as Xander let go and sat back down. “But… I won’t be coming back to Sunnydale. Not to stay, I mean. I’ll still visit you guys and stuff, but…”

“But what?” Dawn asked. There were tears in her eyes. It had never occurred to her that Willow might not come home, at least not after she’d forgiven her for the car accident and the broken arm and all. And this _was_ home – it was Willow’s home. She just knew it was all Angel’s fault. She’d never liked him. Her memories might be fake, but they were real to her, and what she remembered was a big, brooding creep who was only nice to her in front of her sister – and who’d said really mean, hurtful things to her after he lost his soul.

The look on Dawn’s face almost broke Willow’s heart. “It’s the Hellmouth. As soon as I got back here, I could feel it…”

“But I thought you weren’t addicted?”

“Doesn’t mean she’s immune to the call of darkness, Bit,” Spike interposed. “Figure that’s what set her on the wrong path to begin with – all the evil swirling about. Same thing that attracts demons to this place would make even the best witch go bad, at least if she’s got any major power.” That last was a jab at Glinda, not that anyone would notice.

“That makes sense,” Anya said. And it did. The more she thought about it, the more she was upset at herself for not figuring this all out on her own. Of course, she _had_ been caught up in wedding plans. The seating arrangements alone had taken an extraordinary amount of concentration and effort. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse. It occurred to her that Willow’s feelings were probably really hurt by being called a junkie all the time, especially since she wasn’t one.

Should she apologize? She’d ask Xander later and he could help her say it exactly right. The wonderful thing about being married was that there were all these equal partnership rules and your husband had to help you with things.

“So…you’re both…”

Ah, the sweet smell of pain. Buffy’s softly spoken words were music to Spike’s ears since they accompanied the bitter-delicious tang of disappointment and never-to-be-satisfied lust. “Yeah. We’re both making our home in Los Angeles from now on. Hell, even if Red here had wanted to come back to this burg, I’d have wanted to stay down there. The pay’s better, that’s for sure.”

“You get paid?” Anya asked.

“Angel runs a detective agency. They have paying clients,” Buffy interjected, not in the mood for one of Anya’s rants about how unfair it was that they didn’t get paid for demon hunting. Buffy didn’t think it was fair either, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it and hearing Anya bitch and moan was near the top of her list of least favorite things, right alongside cleaning the gum from under the tables at the Doublemeat Palace.

It was strange. As much as she ached for what Spike could give her – especially now, sitting feet away from him – more than she had before, Buffy missed Willow – even though she was here. She missed all the things she'd been missing already, but she missed other things, too. Silly things, the things that used to irritate her, the things that sometimes made her jealous - or angry - or confused. She missed the way Willow would go on and on about things she couldn't care less about. She missed Willow's hair in the drains and the fact that she never, ever remembered to say something when she drank the last of the orange juice or ate the last of Buffy's favorite cookies.

She missed her best friend…and now she always would.

Once again, she wondered why she had sent Willow to Los Angeles. If she hadn’t done that…

The whole world would be a different place.

Willow’s eyes locked with Buffy’s. For a second, what she saw made her almost take the risk, renege on her promises, and stay. She couldn’t, but for that brief moment she considered it. “You did the right thing – sending me to Angel’s, I mean,” she said, and Buffy startled as if she’d gotten the answer before she’d asked the question. Willow wondered if maybe she’d somehow read her thoughts – was that part of her gift? “If I’d stayed…it would have been bad. Even now… It doesn’t feel right. It took leaving to make me recognize what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t seem to stop using magic for everything.”

“Tara could go with you,” Dawn said. “I mean, you guys still love each other, right?”

“It’s not that simple,” Willow said, hating the pain she was causing everyone. Dawn was still a little girl who longed for happily-ever-afters. She’d have to cling to Xander and Anya now. Willow and Tara were no fairy tale princess and princess.

“Why?” Dawn’s voice was a high whine now, petulant and accusatory.

“Because that’s the way it is.” Spike was more than a little sick of all this. He’d forgotten how much he’d hated these Scooby gatherings – the pecking order, the endless questions, the whole stupid mess. “Willow doesn’t have to explain herself to you.”

Dawn’s eyes teared up anew at Spike’s harsh manner. “I just thought…”

He softened as he looked at her. She couldn’t help being a bit of a brat. It was the age. “Sorry I snapped at ya. It’s just that people have a right to a bit of privacy. You wouldn’t want anyone pryin’ into everything you do, now would ya?”

It didn’t take much thought to answer that one. “I guess you’re right. I just… I’m sorry.” The smile Spike gave her made her feel much better…even though her heart still hurt.

“Sometimes things just aren’t meant to last, even if we want them to,” Willow offered, hoping that explained things to the girl, even as she hated the idea of Dawn growing up, losing her ideals, finding out what the world was really like.

What Willow said made no sense to Dawn, but she kept her mouth shut this time. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the way Spike’s hand was now resting on Willow’s shoulder. She wasn’t some stupid little girl anymore and something about the way they were acting towards each other made her think that there was more to their friendship than they were saying. Okay, maybe sometimes things weren’t meant to last, but maybe they didn’t last because you were a liar and a cheater.

“We’re gonna miss you, Will.” Xander’s voice was thick with emotion. This was it. He was officially a grown-up now, wasn’t he? His life would be first and foremost about Anya – not Willow, or Buffy or Dawn either…not anymore. It was strange, but he felt as if _he_ was the one who’d left, even though Willow was the one living far away.

“Don’t be silly, Xander. We’ll visit her all the time. I could start a franchise for The Magic Box. After all, if Angel has enough work to make money, there have to be a lot of occult-inclined people in Los Angeles. And they’re rich. People in Los Angeles have lots of money. I hear that all the time on television.”

The thought of regular visits from the whelp and his demon bride made Spike groan in disgust, but the prospect seemed to have a very different effect on Willow. Bloody hell – she was all sentimental and soft about it, tears and everything. She might as well be writing poetry. He shuddered at the thought.

Willow was oddly touched by Anya’s words – the assertion that she intended for Willow to remain a part of their lives brought a small smile to her face and the barest hint of tears to her eyes. It meant a lot. Sure, she supposed Anya was grateful for the whole ‘saving the wedding’ thing, but Anya wasn’t one who always said thank you and it seemed like there was more to it than gratitude. Maybe, when Willow wasn’t looking, she and Anya had managed to become friends. “I’d love to see you guys anytime. All of you,” she amended.

Buffy stayed silent. It was easier for her to be quiet since she came back from the dead. She always told herself that was because she had gotten in the habit – the kind of joke she hadn’t dared share with anyone, but that she suddenly longed to share with Willow.

Why hadn’t she thought of reaching out to Willow until after she was gone?

Unlike Anya and Xander, Buffy knew it was too late. For everything, she realized as she kept watching the way Spike never left Willow’s side.

A moment later she learned she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Is Spike the reason you broke up with Tara?” Dawn blurted out, her voice tight and her eyes narrow and sharp.

“Dawn!” Buffy cried, wishing her little sister had inherited some of her silence. She didn’t want this talked about, not now and maybe not ever.

“Tara had already broken up with her before she even left town,” Spike answered. As much as he hated to be hurting Dawn, he had to admit he could live with it if it meant he could cause pain to everyone else. He was just damn sorry he’d missed out on the little scene Willow and Tara had back at the wedding. Maybe the Hellmouth worked on him as much as anyone…or maybe he just hated the fact that he was being shunted to the side and ignored here and that was the way it had always been.

He was used to Los Angeles now, and for all the agony he felt over Angel treating him like a necessary evil, even when they were shagging, most of the others treated him with respect – even a bit of friendship. Gunn asked for fighting tips, Fred giggled at his stories and meaningless flirting, Lorne and he shared a healthy distaste for Angel’s Barry Manilow CD’s. A few short weeks and he already had more of a place there than he’d built in all the time he’d spent with the crowd here in Sunnydale.

He wanted to leave and he wanted to leave now. Too bad that wasn’t likely.

“They were going to get back together. That’s what Tara wanted,” Dawn continued, getting to her feet for emphasis.

“Well, if she always meant for them to get back together, she shouldn’t have kicked Red to the curb to begin with, now should she?”

“Spike’s right about that. I mean, Xander and I fight, but I never broke up with him. Not even when he almost didn’t marry me.” She was glad she’d been smart enough not to do something so pathetic and human. The thought that she might not have become Mrs. Xander Harris today was horrible, even though it had all turned out just fine in the end. She laid her head on Xander’s – her husband’s – shoulder. “We never broke up so I never had to worry about him giving someone else orgasms before we could get back together.”

Okay – Willow, Spike, and orgasms were three things Xander did not want to think about at the same time. “An, I don’t think that’s what’s going on with Willow and Spike.”

“Why not?” Spike asked. What did the boy think? That Willow didn’t have the goods to attract anyone but Glinda? He owed her and he wasn’t going to let the implied insult stand. “She’s a tasty little piece, a real sweetheart, too. So why wouldn’t I take a shine to her?”

“Oh God! I knew it!” Dawn yelled.

Buffy didn’t know whether to burst into tears or just run away. She did neither, but her knuckles were white as she dug her fingers into the couch.

Willow was torn between being angry at Spike for his lie and being almost pathetically grateful that he found her attractive enough to lie and say they were an item. Okay, yes, they were having sex, but it wasn’t because he wanted to and… Her head was pounding.

The fact was that bridges were burned and Dawn was hurt and…why did Buffy look _betrayed_?

Oh Goddess. Something had happened between Buffy and Spike – before L.A., before Spike fell in love with Angel…there must have been a Spike and Buffy _thing_. Without even thinking first, she looked straight at Buffy and said, “I’m sorry.”

Tbc…


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Five)

_”I’m sorry.”_

The moment Willow said the words, she was scrambling to fix the damage before it was done. After all, if Buffy had wanted anyone to know, she would have said something.

“I… I probably should have told you guys before. About me and Spike.”

You had to hand it to the girl. She was one sharp lady, figuring things out the way she had. And oh could she think on her feet. Of course, Spike would have some explaining to do later. He was just thankful, frankly, to not have to do it now. He’d caused Buffy enough emotional torment to tide him over and, more importantly, Dawn was here and was already too hurt by everything she’d had to learn. Finding out about her sister’s pathetic affair with him was not on the agenda for her as far as Spike was concerned.

“There really is a you and Spike?” Xander was so hoping he’d heard her wrong. Willow was his very best friend and he respected her right to love who she chose…but _Spike_? The vampire who had kidnapped and terrorized the two of them? The vampire who had tried to kill them all at one time or another and was only refraining from draining them now because of a chip in his head? This had to be loneliness and vulnerability and…Angel. This was Angel’s fault. Angel always made bad things happen.

“I’m not surprised,” Anya said calmly, deciding that gloating too obviously was unbecoming the dignity of the married state. But she _had_ known. She’d known for ages. And really, it made lots of sense, and not just because Willow and Spike were all alone in L.A.

Of course, what was confusing was why Willow didn’t seem happy. That had been normal when she didn’t have someone, but now… Didn’t Spike give good orgasms? He certainly seemed like he would. Maybe later she should offer some advice or something.

Dawn was furious and she wasn’t going to let it go. “I can’t believe you did this to Tara.” Spike’s justification hadn’t worked on her at all. Tara had needed to break up with Willow in order to shock her into getting control of her magic. But Willow should have known they were supposed to get back together. That was the whole point of Willow going to stupid Angel to begin with. And when did Spike stop loving her sister? She hated them both right now.

“We haven’t done a thing to Glinda,” Spike shot back. He was in no mood for childish temper anymore. “She made her bed and if it’s a lonely one, well, that’s her lot.” There were tears in Dawn’s eyes now and… oh bugger. He backpedaled. “I’m sorry, Niblet. But you can’t blame me for fancying Willow. She’s quite a girl.” That last part he meant. Willow _was_ a special sort of creature. And oh how he did wish he loved her.

Willow tried not to think about the cruelty of Spike feigning affection for her this way. Instead she focused on the feelings of one other person in particular; she went to Dawn and pulled the reluctant girl into an awkward hug. “I’m sorry, Dawnie. I never meant for this to happen. Believe me, hurting Tara… I never wanted to do that. Never.”

As much as she wanted to push Willow away and then maybe punch her in the face or something, Dawn realized she couldn’t. She loved Willow – even after having her arm and her heart broken. So she let her arms wrap themselves around her and let go of some of the anger – not all of it, but enough that what she felt the strongest now was being sad that Willow was going back to Los Angeles. She was sad about Spike, too.

Was this that ‘growing up’ thing Buffy always said she needed to do?

Buffy just stayed silent and watched, wondering if anyone even noticed she was still there. Then she caught Spike’s eye and what she saw chilled her to the bone.

He didn’t care. This wasn’t an act, the way she’d hoped it was when she’d first seen him at the wedding. He really didn’t care – not about her, not anymore.

It was all her own fault, as much as it ached to admit it. She’d sent him to Los Angeles, told him he meant nothing to her; she’d never even called him while he was there. So why shouldn’t he move on?

But she couldn’t help but hate him for it…and maybe she hated Willow a little bit, too. She shouldn’t, though, and she knew that. It was obvious that Willow had only just now tumbled to her shameful secret – and she owed Willow a debt of gratitude for keeping quiet.

Buffy wondered, though – was Willow angry or jealous of what had happened between her and Spike. Worse, did she want her to be?

“We should probably go,” Anya finally said. Admittedly, she was a bit peevish about not being the center of attention. After all, this was _her_ wedding day. She didn’t blame Willow, because Willow had done everything possible to make sure the wedding happened and hadn’t _tried_ to steer the focus towards herself, but she blamed everyone else. Especially Dawn, who really needed to grow up and get over herself already. When Anya had been her age, she’d been lugging heavy buckets from a well a half a mile from her house several times a day. Maybe if Dawn had to carry well water every day, she’d have less time to whine and meddle incompetently in other people’s business. “Because even though we’re not going on a honeymoon, newlyweds are supposed to have lots and lots of sex and we need to do that. While we’re still newlyweds.”

“Thank you so much for sharing that with us,” Buffy quipped, finding herself glad for a new target to which she could divert her discomfort and unhappiness.

Willow and Dawn said nothing, but they disentangled and Willow gazed fondly at Dawn’s tear-stained face and puffy, red nose. A wave of filial affection poured over her and, for the second time today, she almost reconsidered going back to Los Angeles.

The difference between almost and actually was as wide as the sea, though, wasn’t it?

Xander went to Willow and hugged her, not even so much as blinking at Anya’s latest pronouncement. Willow had been right, hadn’t she? Loving each other was the most important thing. He felt the same about his best friend. If she thought Spike was the right one, then… Well, he’d just deal with it somehow – mostly by trying _not_ to picture them having sex. The whole ‘Spike being dead’ thing lacked the hotness factor that the ‘girl on girl’ thing had.

He just wished Willow looked happy. Because she might be smiling, but he’d known her for too long not to notice that it didn’t reach her eyes. They would have to have a talk in the next day or so, just the two of them. “See you soon,” he said, with one last squeeze before he let her go. There were other things he wished he had said, but it was too late to say them once he thought of them.

Willow was then caught up in a quick hug from Anya before some last hurriedly-spoken goodbyes and the sound of the door closing behind the departing newlyweds.

And then there were four.

“Okay, Angel. What’s up with you and Willow?” Cordelia finally had Angel cornered and she was not wasting any time with small talk; she’d waited nearly twenty-four hours for this chance.

“What do you mean?” Angel tried to sound both innocent and off-putting. It wasn’t that he was averse to his relationship with Willow (or even Spike) being generally known; it was that he felt an aversion to being put on the spot about his personal life by his presumptuous seer. They were friends – good ones – but Angel kept friendships with humans at a certain level – a level at which Cordelia didn’t seem willing to stay.

“I mean that you’re being pretty open about lusting after Willow but she always looks like someone just killed her fish – again – and then there’s Spike and…”

Bringing up the fish was low, even for Cordelia, and Angel decided he’d already had just about enough. The only way to get her to shut up would be to hit her between the eyes with the truth, so he did. “We’re sleeping together,” he said just as she took a breath. He’d have used a more romantic turn of phrase, but since he was including Spike, that would hardly be _apropos_.

Cordelia was stopped dead in her verbal tracks. Angel and sex? That led to badness – soul-lossage kind of badness. Well, except with Darla – that had only led to Connor, who was very definitely _not_ bad. “But…” She stopped again. Because she’d mentioned two people and… “Which one are you having sex with? And aren’t you worried about your soul? You remember your soul, right? That neat little safety device that keeps you from going all evil? The thing that Willow almost _died_ giving back to you?”

Willow had almost died? No one had bothered to tell Angel that before. He would expect to hear the whole story from her when she returned, that was for sure. But right now, he had Cordelia to deal with. “First of all, I am not doing anything to jeopardize my soul. There are things about the curse that you need to know – chief among them that in order to lose my soul, I have to experience not just a moment of happiness, but a moment where I completely forget that I’m a demon.”

“That explains why you didn’t lose it with Darla then.”

There were a lot of reasons he hadn’t lost his soul with Darla, but Angel wasn’t interested in correcting Cordelia, especially if not doing so was the short track to finishing this explaining business. He continued. “I’m safe as long as I remember what I am.”

“So you’re sleeping with…Spike?” As much as she couldn’t stand the Bleached Blunder, Cordelia had to concede that the idea wasn’t as gross as her tone of voice might indicate. Spike was annoying, sure, but he was also pretty hot. But this sure explained why Willow was so down… and it made Cordelia a bit angry. She’d stepped aside thinking he was going right into Willow’s arms. “But what about…?”

“Yes, I’m sleeping with Spike…and Willow.”

Cordelia's face fell as Angel's answer left her with more questions than before. What was really going on here?

“I thought we’d never be rid of them,” Spike said as the harsh noise of Anya’s car squealing out of the driveway faded.

“Spike,” Willow chided.

“Sorry, pet. But Chubs was wearing on my last nerve. Can’t imagine why you’ve stayed pals with him this long.”

“Xander’s a great guy.” Dawn still remembered a childhood crush on him and even though the memory was given to her by monks instead of being something that actually happened, it felt just the same as the memories she had that she knew _were_ real. She just wished Xander and Spike could get along.

“I’m with Dawn on that one,” Willow chimed in, putting an arm around Dawn’s shoulders for a quick squeeze.

Spike was prepared to argue the point, but he figured it might not serve him well in preserving the illusion that he and Red were a happy twosome. Besides, he’d already done enough to Dawn. He contented himself with rolling his eyes.

“So, how long are you guys gonna be here?”

Dawn’s question was one Buffy wanted answered herself. On the one hand, she wished Willow would stay forever. But then there was Spike… It was hard for her to be in the same room with him right now and she wasn’t crazy about him being in the same town either. As much as she tried to push them away, memories of the night they’d spent together came flooding into her mind.

She had Dawn. She had good friends like Xander…and Willow. Part of her thought she might give it all up to fuck Spike again, to _feel_ again in that intense way nothing else seemed to match. Part of her wanted to stake him where he stood so she could force herself to let go – to try to make what she had enough.

Neither option was open to her.

“We’ll be leaving tonight,” Spike said.

What? That took Willow as much by surprise as anyone. She’d figured they would at least stay for a couple of days. But then she looked at Buffy – saw the way her hand was still tightly clenching the sofa cushion – and she realized that, whether that was his intention or not, Spike’s idea was the most compassionate. While Willow didn’t know any of the details – the how’s, the why’s, the who-did-what-to-whom’s – what she did know was that Buffy was hurting…and once again, it was her fault.

“Yeah, we have cases to work on and things to do and…well, it’s better if I get away from the Hellmouth, you know?”

Dawn’s eyes, the ones that were puffy and hurting from crying too much, filled with tears all over again. She couldn’t believe this. After they were away for so long. She practically threw herself at Spike, grabbing him and hugging him for all she was worth. “You can’t just leave!”

It seemed like all he did was hurt women lately. Which was all well and good if it was Buffy or that damn stupid cheerleader back in L.A., but Bit? Still, it couldn’t be helped, and he wasn’t going to let her work her half-grown wiles on him and get him to stay in this hateful burg for an extra minute. “There, there, Niblet,” he soothed her. “You can come visit any time. I’m sure Willow and Fred would be thrilled to have the excuse to go that Disney place and…”

“Please don’t go,” she bawled, seeming not to have heard a word he said. Bloody, buggering hell. He looked over her shoulder at Willow, almost begging for her help. Serve him right if she didn’t give it, but he knew she would. It wasn’t as if he was above using her feelings for him.

“We have to go. It’s just…it’s not safe for me to be here.”

Maybe the word ‘safe’ had reminded Dawn of her barely-healed arm or maybe she was worried about Willow – either way, Spike felt the shuddering girl in his arms begin to calm. She turned to Buffy. “We can visit them, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, trying to sound less dismal than she felt at the prospect of seeing Spike and Angel at the same time. “We can visit them.”

It hurt Willow’s heart, listening to the reluctance in Buffy’s tone. But she saw an opportunity to fix things at least a little bit staring her in the face and she grabbed for it as fast as she could. “Buffy, since I’m gonna be living in Los Angeles now, is it okay if we go back to your house so I can get the rest of my things? Dawn can stay here with Spike and you and I can have a chance for some girl talk before I go.”

For a moment, Buffy felt like a deer caught in the headlights, but then it all turned around in her head. Because Willow was her best friend…and she wasn’t moving back into Buffy’s house. No more odd-smelling candles or a cheery voice calling out, “Is that you, Buffy?” when she got back from the grocery store. It wasn’t temporary; it was permanent. And she needed this chance to say goodbye.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Spike didn’t think it sounded good at all, but no one was asking him and there was no way he could object without arousing suspicion, so he did his best to sound glad of heart as he piped up with, “Gives me a chance to find out what the brat here’s been up to while I’ve been gone.”

“I’m not a brat.” The petulant tone of Dawn’s voice gave the lie to that, but Spike thought it was cute, so he let her think she’d carried the argument.

Buffy actually snorted, enjoying the moment – even if Spike was part of it. “We’ll be back in a little while. And Spike,” she added, knowing he’d get her meaning, “no telling any inappropriate stories.”

The slow smirk that spread across his face was her first answer, but it was replaced by something odd and grave as he answered, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” without a trace of sarcasm.

With that, Willow and Buffy headed out to Willow’s rental car.

She’d meant to make small talk first, to ease into the topic, but, as always when her thoughts raced ahead of her tongue, Willow blundered badly. The moment Buffy’s door closed and it was just the two of them alone in the car, Willow couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “Buffy, I’m so sorry! I had no idea that you were involved with Spike.”

The sincerity in Willow’s voice and eyes was almost painful, speaking as they did of guilt and sorrow…guilt and sorrow that, to be fair, Willow didn’t deserve to feel. Struggling through the selfishness that made her want to cling to her own needs and make Willow suffer, she held tight to the love she felt for her best friend and told the truth, as much to herself as to anyone. “It was just a one night thing. We fucked. That was it. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Spike was there when I needed to feel. That’s all it was.”

If she’d known what saying it aloud would do… “That’s all it was,” Buffy repeated, almost reverently, in a soft voice.

Willow said nothing. She couldn’t. There were no safe words she could find in the maelstrom in her head. How did she even feel about what Buffy had done? She started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Buffy had used Spike and now Spike was using Willow. What Willow couldn’t figure out was if that made it more okay or less okay…and why it was that Spike found it so much easier to love people who used him without caring anything about him than he did to feel anything for _her_.

And what she realized was that it didn’t matter. She still loved him.

For now, she focused on trying to find something to say to Buffy. Silence was not the right answer, was it?

Tbc…


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Six)

They were still awkwardly quiet as Willow packed her things. It didn’t feel like this had ever been her bedroom. It was more like a storage unit with pretty wallpaper and a bed that had once belonged to someone else packed in along with Willow’s clothes and trinkets. She hadn’t felt any differently at her parents’ house.

Sunnydale – it wasn’t her home, not anymore. It was just the place she had come from a long time ago. And if that was only a month or so, it was also an eternity.

How could it be that less than an hour ago she’d actually been almost willing to brave the dangers of the Hellmouth to her magic (her soul) and had considered staying in this town – in this house?

“That’s everything,” she said as she put her jewelry box into the last of the cardboard boxes they’d hastily scrounged from the basement.

“I miss you so much,” Buffy said, the tears falling full and heavy from her eyes. Yes, she was using the present tense. It was how she felt. Willow was here, physically anyway, but she was already gone, too. She was as far away as she’d been the day Buffy had packed her into a different rental car and sent her off with Spike. If only Buffy had known then what she knew now…about everything. “I love you.” She pulled Willow into a tight hug, holding her so close that she could feel her friend’s heartbeat as her own.

“I love you, too.” Willow meant it; she did. But she still felt as if she was talking to someone she barely knew. It made sense for Spike to use people. He was a demon and – contradictorily to what she’d thought she’d known a week or so ago – she guessed in a way she really had always been aware of that, at least when it came to some things. She expected him to think of himself first and do what it took to get what he wanted. But Buffy? Buffy was brave and true and a warrior for good and… She was the Slayer and Slayers were supposed to be better than…well, better than _everybody_.

Guess Buffy was human, too. She always had been. When had Willow forgotten that?

“I love you,” she said again, still meaning it, even as she struggled with understanding who the girl she was saying it to really was. Her mind went back through years and years of Buffy memories and she couldn’t find anything that helped…until she went to The Bronze on a night so long ago when Buffy had played with Xander’s heart.

Death – that was what caused it all to go wrong. If being dead for a moment could make Buffy do what she did back then, what damage had been wrought by being ripped out of Heaven after months?

“It’s all my fault,” Willow said out loud before she could stop herself.

What? Confusion reigned in Buffy’s head for a moment before she figured it out. “No. No it’s not your fault,” she said softly. “It’s not anybody’s fault, at least not yours. Maybe it’s mine. I don’t know.” She stopped. Years ago, she would have laughed about how she was feeling right now, accused herself of being ‘too think-y’. If she’d done more of this, though, she might have figured things out sooner…and better. She tried to ask a question she should have asked before – fear tripping each word as she tried to speak. “When I was gone…you guys…you were…I mean… you were fine, weren’t you?”

What a thing to ask. “Of course, we weren’t.” Willow took Buffy’s hand and sat with her on the bed. “It wasn’t just because of the demons and the Hellmouth, either. It was you. There was a Buffy-shaped hole in our lives and…it kept hurting and hurting and every day I woke up and it was like you’d just died. I tried and Tara tried and Xander and Giles and… We all tried. But… I’m sorry. I should have tried harder. I guess we all should have. Can you forgive me?”

Buffy only half-heard the last part of what Willow said. ‘Of course we weren’t’ was echoing in her mind, contradicting everything she’d been shown in Heaven and making her wonder if she’d been lied to up there. What kind of Heaven was it if they lied to you and deceived you and…what if she hadn’t really been in Heaven at all?

Finally, she registered Willow’s last question, aided by green eyes full of tears gazing at her. “There’s nothing to forgive.” That was almost as much of a lie as anything she’d been told wherever it was she’d been, but it was true about her resurrection, so it was okay.

She didn’t say anything about Spike; she didn’t even want to. If he and Willow were happy… that was more than she’d had or could have had with him and she could admit that now. Cheap sensation was no substitute for humanity and humanity, well, that was something Buffy was going to have to win back for herself. She could have been further along if she’d seen things the way they really were a whole lot sooner, but today was better than tomorrow, right?

“We should probably get this stuff down to the car. Spike and I are gonna have to start the drive back pretty soon.” She let the implication that daylight was an issue stand. The truth was that she was starting to hate herself. She was struggling with the knowledge that ripping Buffy out of Heaven was far from the only sin for which she needed her friend to forgive her, and it was agonizing to be here. It wasn’t as if she could blame the Hellmouth for the fact that she was fucking Angel.

And only a few moments ago she’d almost felt superior, had almost forgotten… Fine thing for a woman who was letting the love of her best friend’s life fuck her in order to have a man who didn’t want her at all to think so highly of herself. Oh yes, Willow was a paragon of every virtue, a fine choice for a champion on the side of good and right.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” If Buffy knew, this would be a far different good-bye, wouldn’t it?

Picking up a box, Buffy supposed, was as close to accepting this as she was going to get, so she did.

“I know, but…”

“The Hellmouth, I get it.” She turned and looked into Willow’s eyes. “That _is_ it, isn’t it? It’s not because of Spike? Because if it is, you guys can come back. I won’t… I won’t cause any trouble between you or anything.”

It took everything Willow had not to drop the suitcases she was carrying and burst into tears. She didn’t, though. Instead, she just kept lying. Later, she’d tell herself it wasn’t scary at all that she was able to do so successfully now. “It’s not you or anybody at all, I swear. It’s a Hellmouth thing. That’s all it is.”

“It’s just really weird,” Dawn said, and not for the first, or even the second, time since she and Spike had sat down to talk. But she couldn’t help it. Spike and Willow as a couple? Willow was gay! Okay, yeah, there had been Xander, and Oz, and that crush on Giles, but… Tara. That meant Willow was…

All right, maybe Willow was bi, but still – she and Tara had been perfect. Every time Dawn looked at them, she’d seen what she wanted for herself someday: the hand-holding, the sweetness, the way they looked at each other and smiled. She remembered the way Willow had cared for Tara after Glory hurt her; the way she’d sworn she would do it forever if she had to because Tara was her girl…and then she’d managed to bring Tara back. All of it was like something out of a fairy tale. So where was the ‘happily ever after’ they were supposed to have, huh?

Spike could all but read Dawn’s mind and he swallowed down his irritation. He’d never quite understand what had held Willow and Tara together, honestly. Oh, he knew Red had really loved Glinda, but it was the ‘why’ that escaped him. Their relationship had been sticky and soft and calm – what was good about that? Where was the fire, the passion, the heat? Where was the ache – the kind Spike felt whenever he looked at Angel? Sure it hurt – damn badly, in fact – but it was real and sharp and it meant something. Willow and Tara had been like two old maids sharing a ground floor flat, poring over photo albums full of snapshots of their grandchildren, and heating each other’s tea or something. Unlike Xander, he’d never been able to picture the two of them going at it.

“It’s not weird at all.” Spike fought to keep from sounding annoyed. “It’s just different from what you think Willow’s all about. Ever think that maybe that’s part of what gave the Hellmouth a chance to get at her? The role she had to play all the time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that maybe you all kept forcing her to be someone she wasn’t. Maybe she was never supposed to be such a goody-two-shoes, the go-to gal, the straight arrow. Maybe if she’d been able to fall a few times without everyone treating it like a bloody crime, she’d have been better able to understand those dark places inside and the Hellmouth wouldn’t have got its hooks in her.”

“What does that have to do with her breaking up with Tara?”

How to say what he meant without coming off as if he was being hard on Tara… “It’s just that Tara was a part of that, y’know? She and Red were always sweetness and light and that was part of the problem.”

Dawn was more confused than ever. How could someone who was so perfect for you be a problem? She had a feeling, though, that more questions would make Spike think she was a baby who just didn’t get it, so she pretended she did. “Okay. So that’s why it’s the two of you now, right? Because you don’t expect her to be good?”

Spike chuckled and reached over, ruffling Dawn’s hair a bit. Clueless little chit, but she was a right adorable one for all of it. “I just don’t expect her to be perfect, that’s all. She’s got needs and feelings. She’s allowed to make mistakes.” The biggest mistake of all was that Willow loved Spike in the first place, but it wasn’t as if he was gonna say _that_.

None of what Spike said made things any clearer to Dawn, but she kept her confusion to herself. “You guys are happy?”

Well, as to that, guess you’d have to define happy, but Spike schooled his features into an expression of guileless sincerity and answered, “Yeah, we are.”

“Then I guess it’s okay.” It sort of had to be, didn’t it? It wasn’t like she could wave a magic wand and get Willow to go back to Tara. Besides, that would make Spike unhappy, now that she thought of it. Before he had Willow, he’d been all alone. That wasn’t exactly a happy ending. You’d think being an ancient mystical Key would mean she had the answers, but she didn’t.

She laid her head on Spike’s shoulder and sighed. “Are you sure you guys have to leave? I mean, maybe now that she’s got you and everything, the Hellmouth won’t be such a problem for her with the magic and…”

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, Bit. The damage has been done. Besides, I kinda like earning a living and all. Los Angeles isn’t such a bad place.”

Dawn snorted. “Yeah, sure, as long as you don’t mind Angel.” She couldn’t imagine how Spike was putting up with him. The brooding? The ‘I’m all better than everybody else because I’m the only vampire with a soul’ thing? Even Buffy hadn’t been that bad when she first found out she was the Slayer and hello, she’d sort of gotten over it, too. “I can’t believe you haven’t staked each other yet.”

Spike almost reacted to that last remark. Every once in awhile, the little girl surprised him, the way she’d innocently tread into truth, not even knowing she was there. Because oh yes, there’d been staking – both of a pleasurable and a painful kind. “He’s not so bad. He’s grateful to Willow, so…”

“What is he grateful to Willow for?”

Bugger! What the hell had he been thinking? “Demon attack at the hotel. Willow whipped up some impressive mojo. Saved us all.”

“Wow. That must have been a really big attack if you needed Willow’s help. Why would demons go after Angel like that?”

“You know how it is. Everybody’s a bit over the top down there in L.A.” He tried to blow the whole thing off. Guess he’d succeeded since Bit didn’t say anything.

Dawn didn’t buy Spike’s explanation for a minute, but it wasn’t like he was going to tell her if he was in mortal danger all the time. He still thought she was a kid who couldn’t handle grown-up stuff. Hello? Sister of the Slayer here! Still, once again she kept her mouth shut. But boy was she gonna have a talk with Angel sometime soon. If he wanted to get himself killed, great - Dawn might even throw a parade (and no, that wasn’t because she still resented the way he called her ‘Kiddo’) - but Spike and Willow? No.

“I’m glad Willow was able to help,” she finally said. She was, too. It was kind of nice to think that at least Willow could safely use magic down there. No more evil dealers and badness. “I know how much magic means to her.”

At that very moment, the front door opened and Willow and Buffy came in. “Hey there.”

Oh God. This was it, wasn’t it? Spike was really going and so was Willow. This sucked. Dawn started to cry. That didn’t make her a baby, though.

“Now, now, Niblet. You’ll be visiting soon. Not like you’re never gonna see us again.” Spike kept his arm around the girl, not letting on that her tears almost made him happy. It was sort of nice to think he’d be missed. Dawn was the only thing in this town he gave a damn about.

“It’s dark out. That means you get to drive,” Willow offered with a hollow smile.

Dawn leapt up from the couch and ran to Willow, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you.”

It was the first time Willow had heard those words from Dawn in so long and they drew forth the tears she’d been holding back. “I love you, too.”

“Better hit the road. Traffic and all.” Spike avoided Buffy’s eyes. It was over, he’d decided, even the vengeful bits, and he had nothing to say to her, with or without words.

“We’ll stop at the crypt before we go. Get the rest of your stuff.”

Uh-oh. “Umm…about the crypt. Another vampire was using it to store demon eggs he wanted to sell and they hatched and…” Buffy cringed as she waited for Spike’s response. She wasn’t disappointed.

“What the hell did you do to my crypt?”

“It was Riley,” Dawn chimed in, trying to deflect the blame from her sister. “He was the one who kind of blew it up.”

And yet again, soldier boy bollixed up Spike’s unlife. Then again, guess this might be just another sign that a Hellmouth was not a home – not for Spike. He let the anger flow out of him.

“Riley’s back?” Willow was almost happy to hear that…but then she realized something: Why hadn’t Buffy told her?

“Not to stay. He and his wife were just here to deal with the demon eggs.” Buffy’s ego was still sore and bruised from that encounter.

“Wife? Riley’s married?” Willow wrapped her arms around Buffy. “These rebound things – they never last, you know. You’ll see. Six months from now he’ll be in divorce court getting reamed with exorbitant alimony payments and we can all laugh at him when he’s sleeping on some friend’s couch because he can’t afford his own place anymore.”

Now Buffy was the one to cry. Not because of Riley and his action movie heroine of a wife, but because what Willow had just said…was exactly what she’d dreamed Willow would say. It was ‘best friend’ at its finest and Buffy would just miss her all the more now.

Great. Waterworks. Were they ever going to get the bloody hell out of this place? Still, guess he couldn’t expect Willow to stop being Willow. Despite what he’d said to Dawn earlier, he knew this wasn’t entirely a role – it was who Willow was. And what that was seemed closer to perfect than he wanted it to. She made it damn hard to justify not loving her, to justify using her, to justify throwing her some crumbs and bones and calling it a banquet.

Damn her to hell.

Finally, Buffy and Willow disentangled. “We better go,” Willow said softly.

“I love you.”

Those words were said by three voices at exactly the same time. There were more hugs, quicker ones this time, more tears, and goodbyes were said and re-said. And then Willow let Spike lead her out the door, followed by Buffy and Dawn. “Want me to drop you off?” Willow asked, even as Spike gripped her hand tightly in protest.

“No. I think we’ll walk.” Buffy’s words contradicted Dawn’s vigorous nod, but they held. She put her arm around her too-tall little sister and watched as Willow and Spike got into the car and drove away.

“I wanted them to stay,” Dawn said as the car turned a corner and out of sight.

“So did I,” Buffy said. “So did I.”

After a few minutes, Buffy turned to walk home and Dawn followed. Buffy wondered for a minute what she was thinking, but she didn’t ask. Sometimes thoughts were meant to belong just to the person who was thinking them. Would she have wanted anyone to question her about her own?

So they walked in silence. Back to their house. The Summers house. That was all it was now.

  
Tbc…


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Seven)

It had been almost 48 hours since he’d last seen Willow and Angel was miserable. Cordelia, of all people, had finally banished him from the office, claiming he was useless, tactless, and mean. As if she was one to talk. Still, the murmurs of approval from Wesley, Gunn, and even Fred, which had followed her tirade had been enough to convince him to beat a reasonably hasty retreat without any argument as to its necessity.

Not wanting to go to his room – too many reminders of just what he was missing – and not wanting to leave the hotel just in case Willow called, he sat in the lobby. Well, he sat some of the time. At other moments, he put down the newspaper he was barely reading and got up to pace for a bit before sitting down again. Oh hell. While he didn’t want to disturb Connor’s sleep, Angel decided to go upstairs. His son was almost always the cure for what ailed him. The first of a number of miracles he’d recently known, wasn’t he?

Unfortunately, even the rarefied air of the nursery couldn’t calm Angel and Lorne soon glared at him. “Angelcakes,” he growled _sotto voce_, “babies can pick up on your mood, you know. I think you should…”

But at that, Angel interrupted him. “I’m not going anywhere.” He was tired of being ordered around; his demon was chafing at the cavalier way he was being treated. “You do remember that Connor is _my_ son, right?”

Lorne shrugged diplomatically, admittedly a bit cowed by Angel’s tone. This wasn’t the same vampire he’d first met. He had known this was coming, but he couldn’t help but grumble a bit at the Powers. While he supposed that the fact that what they had set in motion had saved Connor and allowed Angel something close to happiness meant it was all for the best, he couldn’t help but think about the sacrifices along the way…especially Willow. Boy was this different from the way Lorne had felt about her back when she’d first arrived – the days when he’d seen her as an interloper who was ruining his plans for Angel and Cordelia.

Everything looked different now.

Angel stared down at his sleeping son. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this…the fact that there was a child in this world – a human child – who would one day look at him and call him ‘Dad.’ He tried not to think about the difficulties that lay ahead – the way his son would grow up and grow older while he himself would never change. Someday – not soon by human standards, but soon to a being who thought in eternities – Connor would be fifty and Angel would look like _his_ son. What would all of this mean? Would Connor be able to have anything resembling a normal life? To go to school, grow up, get married? Would he come to resent Angel for not being the human father he _should_ have had?

“This is the way it was meant to be,” came Lorne’s soft voice from behind him, followed by the sound of departing footsteps. Someday, Angel was going to understand Lorne.

That day wasn’t today.

“Home, sweet home.” Spike’s voice echoed in his own ears as he carried his and Willow’s bags into the lobby of the hotel. There was a bit of a hum from the office, but no one rushing out to meet them. Nice thing, that. Guess they hadn’t been missed after…

“Willow.”

Well, well. If it wasn’t the love of his unlife.

“Spike.”

Being an afterthought was a fine thing, yes, indeed.

Willow looked up the stairs and saw Angel heading down to join them. A few seconds later, she saw Cordelia and the others come out of the office. “Hey there.” Was it Willow’s imagination, or was everyone strangely reticent and odd? Oh goddess. Angel had said something, hadn’t he? Just what she needed. Cordelia probably thought she’d turned into Vamp Willow. She almost blushed as she remembered the leather pants in her suitcase – the ones she’d bought when she was competing against Veruca for Oz’s affections. Why had she even brought them with her?

“I better go back out and get those boxes,” Spike said, clearly looking to make good his escape. Fred was grinning at them, which only made Willow more certain that she knew the truth.

He headed back out to the car, slightly surprised to hear Angel’s footsteps behind him. Better not get your hopes up there, boy. Angel’s first words demonstrated the wisdom of that.

“Did she really bring everything with her?”

“Everything she cares about, yeah.” And if the bastard thought Spike was implying that he himself was one of those things, well, he was.

Angel went to the other side of the car, opening the door and taking out one of the boxes while Spike got the other. It was a bit heavier than he’d thought it would be. Willow knew how to pack, it seemed. Surprising skill for a girl who’d never left the home she grew up in until recently.

He wasn’t going to say anything to Spike, but to his surprise, he found himself blurting out, “It’s good that you’re back.” He wished he knew why he’d said it.

What? Spike was immediately wary. He said nothing, merely shrugging as best he could with a box in his arms. He turned and headed back inside. Angel followed.

Fidgeting slightly, Willow kept making outrageously awkward small talk with the crew in the lobby, the absence of Angel and Spike helping less than she’d hoped.

Finally, someone asked a good question. Amazingly, that someone was Cordelia. “So…how was the wedding?”

Willow fought down a sigh of relief, thrilled for an excuse to fill the uncomfortable quiet. “It was great – well, after I managed to talk Xander into going through with it. Apparently Anya had an old enemy who showed up and pretended to be the Ghost of Future Xander or something… But that’s really a long, unnecessary story, isn’t it? What I mean is – yeah, it was great. Except maybe for the bridesmaids’ dresses,” she thought of Tara and her heart hurt, “and the part where Anya vowed to always be Xander’s sex poodle.”

“What?” Wesley was…well…shocked would be a fitting word. Appalled might be a better one. Perhaps he was old-fashioned, but…

Catching the look on Wesley’s face, Willow hastened to defend her friend. “Anya’s still having a hard time with the ‘appropriate conversation’ thing. She was a vengeance demon for a thousand years, after all, and it’s kind of hard to get back into the human groove after that long.”

“Your friend married a demon?” Gunn asked, feeling confused and a bit out of the loop. Which was pretty much the case anytime Sunnydale was brought up. One of these days he was gonna sit Cordy down and make her give him the lowdown on who was who and what was what there.

“An ex-demon, actually. She was kinda the patron saint of scorned women and when Xander and Cordelia broke up, she appeared and then she lost her powers and…” Willow’s voice trailed off. She was expecting Cordelia to jump in and mention just whose fault the break-up was. Much to her shock, that didn’t happen.

Before she could fully experience the feeling of gratitude welling up inside her, however, awkwardness made a second appearance. Spike and Angel were back.

“Guess you guys’ll just be taking those up to Angel’s room, huh?” Fred asked, trying to show that she was okay with the new arrangement. Just because she was from Texas, it wasn’t like she was backward or a prude or anything. She blushed as she thought about last night with Gunn…no, not a prude.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. Thanks for the tact, Fred. She was pretty sure they had all agreed _not_ to bring up Angel’s sexcapades. Call her crazy, but she’d kind of thought Willow might appreciate not being hit with the fact that everyone knew she was boinking two vampires the moment she got back from Sunnydale. And everyone said _she_ was the one who never knew when to keep her mouth shut.

Shame and humiliation – they weren’t good feelings and Willow wished she could make them go away. It wasn’t like she was actually cheating on anyone or having an affair with someone who was involved with someone else. So why did she feel like a harlot? She did, though, and the knowing looks she was getting made her feel that scarlet ‘A’ burning into her flesh once again.

Of course, remembering that, as hard as it was for her friends to accept she was with Spike, adding in Angel would make them hate her went a long way towards explaining at least some of her fervent wish that this had remained a clandestine affair. Some, but not all.

She needed to not think now. “No, I’m still in my room,” she said, trying hard to sound cheery and innocent.

Angel felt a pang at Willow’s words, but they didn’t surprise him. Besides, he reasoned, it made sense for her to need the room as a place to store her things. Angel’s closet was already pretty full.

“I need to get some rest, okay, guys?” Willow added. She really _was_ worn out after the events of the day. Saving your best friend from ruining his life could take it out of a girl.

“Sure.” “See you later.” “Welcome back.” Those and other assorted pleasantries followed Willow and her two companions as she picked up the suitcases and followed Spike and Angel up the stairs.

“’Night, all,” was Spike’s parting shot. Angel said nothing. Guess that wasn’t a surprise.

And it was awkward all over again now that the three of them were alone in Willow’s room. This seemed so final somehow, having all her things here, and that made it more real which made it… real. She was redundant even in her head, wasn’t she?

“Hey,” she said. As monosyllables went, it was pretty monosyllabic. For the second time tonight, she thought of Oz. It was frightening how long ago and far away he seemed. Would it be like this someday when she thought of Tara?

“It’s good to see you,” Angel said, struggling for words that wouldn’t frighten her away. He knew how uncomfortable she was with the intensity of his feelings for her. But he had to add, “I’ve missed you.”

It seemed a stake really did have to be made of wood to kill his kind, or Spike would have turned to dust. The way Angel was looking at Willow… Of course, she probably felt the same way every time she saw him look at Angel. All that turnabout stuff…it was a damn sight more than a pithy little aphorism, wasn’t it?

“Too bad you missed the wedding. Worth going just to see the Slayer in that bright green get-up she was wearing. Anya seemed to be getting a spot of vengeance in there.”

Angel chuckled softly. He couldn’t help himself; he remembered Buffy’s clothes-consciousness very well and the thought of her in…”Bright green?”

“You know Fyarl mucus? Same colour. Bit shinier.”

"Hey now,” Willow interjected. “It wasn’t that bad. I thought she looked…”

“Bloody awful.”

Okay, she had to concede that. “It’s not like she picked the dress out.”

After that, there was a bit of a lag until Spike spoke again. “Good job saving the day and all that.”

“Did something happen?” Angel was worried now. Why hadn’t they called him if there had been danger?

“Nothing, really. I just kind of had to help Xander get over some really bad pre-wedding jitters, that’s all.”

“Pet, he’d left Anya at the altar.”

“Only for a few minutes.” Willow was much less comfortable sharing this with Angel than she had been with the others. She wished she knew why. “But we talked it over and he went back and everything went just fine after that.”

“He’s lucky you were there.”

The tone of Angel’s voice…the hard part was that, while it made her uncomfortable, she had to admit to herself that it was…_nice_ to have someone think that everything you did was special and amazing. She hadn’t had that in such a long time, and never from someone who knew as much about what _wasn’t_ wonderful about her as Angel did. Was it evil of her to hang onto that, to enjoy it, even though she knew she didn’t feel the same for Angel and never would?

“Spike was really helpful, too,” she said, seeking to vitiate her sins by deflecting a little glory to the one who actually loved Angel desperately. “He got everyone to forgive us for being a couple and…”

“So they think you two are involved?” Angel tamped down his jealousy. After all, it was true after a fashion.

“Not like we could tell them about you now, was it? ‘Sides, they weren’t buying me stayin’ in L.A. for the scenery.”

“What about Willow?”

She decided to field that question herself. “I told them the truth. The Hellmouth. The minute I was back there, I could feel it. It was bad. I sort of understand how I went wrong, why I went kinda magic crazy. There’s this pull…this darkness…I could feel it the whole time I was there.” Willow found herself shuddering at the memory. What she wondered was why she’d never noticed before. How could it have seemed so normal?

Angel went to her, pulling her into his arms. “You’re never going back.”

“No, she’s not,” Spike added. As jealous as he was of the way his sire was holding her, he still felt protective of Willow – couldn’t forget that she was his friend and he owed her. One night of just the two of them in bed together didn’t make up for everything he’d put her through. Of course, he knew she wouldn’t see it that way at all. She was something else, the little witch.

For all that, his eyes were on Angel.

Willow didn’t argue. While a part of her wanted to remind them both that she wasn’t in high school anymore, it seemed pointless. She didn’t think going back to Sunnydale was such a great idea either.

“I’m not going back,” she agreed.

Angel let go of her. As badly as he wanted to take her to bed, he could tell she was tired and emotionally drained. Still, what he hadn’t thought wise before, he was willing to consider now. “Sleep in my room?” The question was asked softly, though not too softly for Spike to hear. “Both of you?” he added, knowing it was the only way.

About to say no, Willow caught Spike’s eye and changed her mind. She couldn’t deny him Angel’s bed. “Okay.”

It was a pathetic thing, to feel so cravenly grateful, and Spike was even more thankful that Willow didn’t look him in the eyes again and see his degraded emotions there. But _he_ knew, and that was bad enough. Love’s bitch – it was who he’d been since the day he’d lost his heart to Cecily and even Death herself, faithless cunt that she was, hadn’t seen fit to alter him.

Rail against his fate and his heart though he may, he was still cruelly eager to lie next to Angel, to feel that still, cold body against his own…even if he knew he was only there to preserve Angel’s soul.

Angel went back to the door and opened it, allowing Willow to exit first. He didn’t wait for Spike, wanting an unobstructed view of the girl who held his heart as she headed down the hall towards his room - _their_ room. He heard the steps of his boy behind him and that was good enough.

Tonight he wouldn’t be lonely.

  
Tbc


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Eight)

“So…you and Angel and Spike?”

Willow had known last night’s restraint wouldn’t last. Still, she had sort of hoped she’d be able to have a cup of coffee before getting the third degree. She tried to assess Cordelia’s expression for the best way to proceed, but it wasn’t like she was objective enough. So she just winged it and said, “Yeah. Me, Angel, and Spike. Pretty weird, huh?” She ended with a half-smile that she hoped was disarming.

There were about a zillion questions Cordelia wanted to ask – some because she was curious, others because, she had to admit, she was jealous – but for some reason she just couldn’t seem to ask them. Whatever happened to the girl who’d said that tact was just not saying true stuff? The girl who’d never thought of something without saying it? Was she maturing? Because that was just wrong on every level. She fought the urge to pull out her compact and check for crow’s feet. “Did you tell Xander or Buffy?” she asked. Not that she cared, but she had to say _something_.

Oh great…thanks, Cordelia. “Sort of.”

Okay…_sort of_? “Sort of?”

“Well, they know about me and Spike, they just don’t know about Angel. I didn’t really think that part would go over too well, you know?”

“Oh, so Little Miss Can’t Stay Dead hasn’t gotten over Angel yet, huh?”

Willow winced at Cordelia’s glib epithet for Buffy – pile on another helping of guilt while you’re at it, huh? “No, I mean, hey, there was Riley and everything,” she decided not mention Riley’s marriage, “it’s just that…”

“She’s not over him.” Cordelia made a dismissive snorting sound even as she recalled that stupid ‘pot/kettle’ saying. But really, it wasn’t the same thing at all. Because Buffy had been pining for _years_. Cordelia was so not that pathetic. In fact, she was darn close to being over him.

Sort of.

There really wasn’t anything else Willow could say. Denial was clearly not working. At least Cordelia hadn’t asked about how this whole mess had happened to begin with. How the heck would she manage to come up with a convincing lie to explain that?

“So you’re just the witch in the middle of a big, happy vamp sandwich now?” Well, there went the tact. And could Cordelia just say ‘thank God’? Because she’d really been worrying about herself.

“I wouldn’t actually put it like that, but… I guess so.” Willow blushed scarlet, even as she wondered why. It’s not like it wasn’t exactly what she was doing. She wondered when she’d turned back into the girl who could barely say the words ‘making love’ when she was talking to Xander. You sleep with a werewolf, a witch, and two vampires and yet, here you are – back in high school – wearing tights and stammering as you spell out s-e-x.

Deep down, though, she knew exactly why she was ashamed and it was so much worse than teenage prudery.

Willow smiled again, or at least the corners of her mouth turned up. That was a smile, right? “I know it’s kind of unconventional and all, but…”

“But bugger off to anyone who doesn’t like it.” Spike heard that useless bint of a seer nattering away and Willow becoming increasingly uncomfortable. While playing the white knight wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit of, it wouldn’t hurt this once. “’Ello, pet.” He put his arm around Willow and kissed her cheek. “Cheerleader.” He dismissed Cordelia with a sneer.

Grr. Granted, Spike was a nobody, but Cordelia was used to nobodies realizing her superiority and she hated the way Spike refused to treat her the way she deserved. She was a seer, dammit. Her visions saved lives. Lots of them. She was way more useful than some vampire with a chip in his head. She guessed Angel wouldn’t see it that way, though, since thanks to the Bleached Blunder he could get pelvic with Willow. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder something, though: How had they figured that out? And whose idea had it been?

Just then – in what had to be the worst timing ever – she had a vision.

“Okay, Spike, as much fun as talking to you is, me and the other people who are actually able to do anything during the day have to go to Fairfax right now. Some demon is about to wreak some serious havoc at a newsstand.”

Willow figured she really needed to go along on this one. After all, she needed to pull her weight around here. “What does he look like?”

“Large, blue, one large horn and one small one in the center of his forehead. Oh…and tentacles instead of arms. Eww.”

“That’d be a Karvonik demon,” Spike immediately offered. “They’re a pretty easy kill – beheading does the trick nicely. Just don’t lop off the tentacles…venom shoots out. Deadly stuff, that.” Oh yeah, he was useless all right.

“I’ll go get Fred and Gunn,” Willow chimed in, rushing off to do just that.

“And I’ll go get Wesley.” With that, Cordelia was gone as well.

Spike headed back upstairs, frustrated and annoyed. Damn Karvoniks. Why couldn’t they get up to mischief in the dead of night like normal demons anyway?

But worse than missing out on the chance for some violence was knowing that Peaches wouldn’t be willing to help him while away the time while the others were gone. Oh no. Angel would just spend every minute fretting about Willow.

He thought about Cordelia’s words: “big, happy vamp sandwich.” Was he happy? He had no idea. If he’d known things would be like this, would he have set the wheels in motion anyway? Again, he had no idea. Then he remembered the feel of Angel inside him, the way those large hands felt on his body, and he knew one thing – he wouldn’t do a thing to end this now.

Dawn tapped her foot nervously as she looked across the table. Gosh this was awkward. Okay, yeah, Tara was the one who said “Let’s meet up at the Espresso Pump,” but Dawn still wasn’t sure if Tara really wanted to see her. Or maybe she did, but it was just to tell her that they weren’t friends anymore.

“I w-wanted to tell you something, okay?” Tara’s soft voice was still startling to Dawn, who braced herself for the worst. “J-just because Willow’s gone, it doesn’t mean that we’re not still friends. I wanted to make s-sure you knew that.”

Dawn wanted to leap across the table and hug Tara, but that would be so not cool, so she restrained herself. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from squealing a bit when she responded with, “That’s great. Because yeah, you’re my friend, and I would totally miss you.” And now she felt like a total dork for ever thinking Tara would just walk away from her. She felt the need to make up for her doubts. “It’s not like I didn’t know you felt that way. Because hey, we were friends when you and Willow were first broken up and then when she was gone, so her staying in L.A. and being with Spike wouldn’t change things, but…”

“W-Willow’s with Spike?” Tara’s heart sank. Willow had said nothing to her about… She guessed she should have known something like this was happening. But it didn’t really make sense. For all the pointed comments he’d made when she was in Los Angeles, Spike hadn’t looked at Willow the way that… “Not Angel?” It took her less than a second to realize she’d said those last words aloud. The look on Dawn’s face… Oh no. “I’m s-sorry. I…I was j-just c-confused and th-thinking of s-something else.”

Dawn didn’t believe Tara’s explanation for a second. She was stuttering badly and that meant she was nervous – and lying. Dawn forgot the guilt she’d been feeling for hurting Tara with news she thought Tara already knew in a rush of curiosity. “Why would you think Willow was with Angel?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have just blurted that out? “It-it’s n-nothing. I guess I just… I d-don’t know him and it was the way he l-looked at Willow. I was p-probably wrong. I mean, I d-don’t really know w-what he looks like when he broods.” Lying would work better if she could actually get the words out.

“I’m not gonna say anything to Buffy, you know, so you can tell me the truth.” Dawn was tired of being the baby no one thought could handle things. And she really wanted to know why Tara thought Willow was that lame. Okay, it was true that her sister had been dumb enough to fall for that ‘woe is me’ stuff, but Buffy had no taste. Willow had been with _Tara_. Why would she dump her for a loser like Angel?

Tara took a breath and looked into Dawn’s eyes. She trusted Dawn, she did. And maybe talking about this would help her make sense of it all. “I – I don’t know w-what Willow feels for him. It’s just…when I was there…he was p-possessive of her, you know? He l-looked at her like…like s-she was his.”

And suddenly Dawn felt so much better. Because as bad as Willow leaving Tara for Spike was, it would be so much worse if she liked Angel. “So all you saw was Angel staring at Willow like a big, creepy stalker?”

Tara nodded.

“Oh! Well then that doesn’t mean anything. Because he’s had a twisted thing for her for like…ages. I mean, back when he didn’t have a soul, he killed her fish, which is practically demon courtship. Not that I ever said anything like that to Buffy, but I knew she and Angel were doomed after that, even after Willow gave him his soul back. Speaking of which? Hello? Moment of happiness? Losing his soul again? No way Willow would ever risk that even if she was brain-damaged enough to like him that way, which she doesn’t, believe me. You should have seen the way she and Spike looked at each other. It was…” Great one, Dawn. Open your mouth a little wider next time you go to shove your foot in it. “Nothing like the way she looked at you, it’s just…” Dawn’s voice trailed off. There was no way to fix what she’d just done, was there?

Tara reached across the table and took Dawn’s hand. “It’s okay. You’re n-not the only who can handle the truth.” And if that was almost a lie, at least it wasn’t all the way there. “So. Why don’t we go see a movie or something, okay?”

Angel paced. He’d been on edge ever since Spike had informed him that Willow had gone off with the others thanks to that vision of Cordelia’s. It was ridiculous of him and he knew it. Willow was a powerful witch who could easily take care of herself; he’d seen her in action and knew that firsthand.

But she was also _his_ and he didn’t want her in any kind of danger, especially not when he couldn’t be there to ensure that nothing could get the best of her. It was one thing for her to fight at his side, but…

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the bloody carpet,” Spike groused as he watched Angel walking back and forth. He’d expected this reaction, but it was still maddening.

Angel contented himself with simply glaring back at Spike. What the hell was the boy still doing in here anyway? He’d made it clear that there was no sex without Willow and since she was gone…

“She’ll be just fine, you know. Chit’s safer in a fight than either one of us, or have you forgotten all that mojo she whipped up when those bastards wanted your son?”

The fact that Spike was right didn’t endear him to Angel, though the memory of Willow saving his son was a fond one. Just then, there was a knock at the door. A familiar, and welcome, heartbeat was there as well.

“Come in,” Angel said, but before Willow could even turn the knob, he flung the door open. He pulled her into his arms before she could even say a word.

Spike wanted to say something snide, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was pathetic was what it was, hoping this would lead to something.

“I’m okay,” Willow managed to say as soon as Angel let her go and allowed her to breathe again. “It was easy. I did a binding spell and Gunn chopped the demon’s head off and…see? Okay.” She was almost insulted by Angel’s concern. It was an alpha male thing, and she got that, it was just…

Maybe one of the reasons she loved Spike was that he never worried about her. And all right, maybe a big part of that was because he just didn’t care, but still, there was something wonderful about his not treating her like some helpless damsel. She’d hated being treated that way even when she _was_ helpless, but now… Yeah, she hated it a whole lot more.

“I’m sorry.” It didn’t take much for Angel to sense Willow’s irritation and he supposed that she had a right to it. Still, he wished she appreciated the fact that the only reason he’d worried was because he cared – more than cared.

“Sometimes it’s hard for us big, strong vampires to accept that we can be bested by a little girl,” Spike offered, surprising even himself by coming to Angel’s defense after a fashion. He was so desperate to curry favour, wasn’t he?

Love’s bitch howling for his master.

No matter how many times it broke, Willow’s heart could still keep breaking. It hurt to watch Spike trying so hard to please Angel, and she wished she could hate Angel for what Spike was going through.

She couldn’t, though. No, she couldn’t. It wasn’t Angel’s fault – not any of it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, except hers, for winding up here in the first place, for being the catalyst for everything that had happened since.

If only Cordelia knew there was ground glass in this happy vamp sandwich.

“Is anyone but me curious about how this whole thing happened?” Gunn asked. He and Fred and Cordelia and Wesley were sitting in the lobby, skipping the post game wrap-up and getting straight down to business…the business of Angel’s kinky sex life. Not that it surprised him that Angel played for both teams. The man was a vampire. Gunn figured he had to have tried pretty much everything once. Still, he had to admit that this threesome had him stumped, and now that they finally had the chance to sit down as a group and talk about it without worrying that Angel would overhear them…

“I fail to see how this is any of our business,” Wesley began, before being cut off by Cordelia.

“Excuse me? Of course it’s our business. We work together – in this building. All of these shenanigans happening here, in our office, makes it our business.” Cordelia was still frustrated by the questions she hadn’t gotten answered this morning. And one other thing: The more she thought about it, the more one thing didn't make sense to her. “Can anyone explain to me how Spike even got picked to be the third wheel in all of this? Because last time I checked, he and Angel hated each other.”

Recovering from his recent reticence, Wesley chimed in with, “Well, Angel and Spike do share a sort of consanguinity. It is a known fact that in vampire clans there is a certain degree of almost compulsory incestuous interaction, so to speak, and…”

“And besides, seeing the way Angel looks at Willow? Hell, I think he’d have sex with just about anyone if it meant they could get…”

“Yes, I think we know,” Wesley interrupted, hating the grin on Gunn’s face. It was an expression that bespoke a certain comradeship with the man of whom he spoke and what Wesley did _not_ need were further reminders of who else was up to ‘shenanigans’, as Cordelia had put it, in the hotel.

Jealousy – it was ugly and sordid and Wesley hated its presence within him. But willpower seemed ineffective at banishing the repugnant emotion. He supposed he was going to have to concede to conventional wisdom and wait for time to do the work of banishing it. With Fred and Gunn holding hands and trading knowing looks in his presence, that time seemed destined to be lengthy.

“As long as Angel can be happy and keep his soul, I don’t think we should judge,” Fred suggested. “I think they make a cute trio.” She did, too. And what she really hoped was that acceptance from all of them would make Willow feel more comfortable. Because it was obvious that worrying about what they all thought was making Willow uneasy. If everyone would just lighten up and be open-minded, Willow could relax and be happy, the way she deserved to be.

“I’m with my girl on that,” Gunn said, deciding she had a point. Maybe the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ was nobody’s business anyway. “Who’s up for some tacos? I’m buying.”

“Tacos?” Fred almost squealed in delight.

Wesley and Cordelia made their excuses and Gunn and Fred departed alone. Wesley went back to the office, offering an explanation Cordelia didn’t listen to though she said something sort of polite, or at least she thought she did.

It had been easier, so much easier, when Angel liking Willow had been something she’d thought would be confined to hand-holding and maybe a few stolen kisses. But now…knowing that they were doing…well…_everything_…it was harder than she’d thought it would be.

But she was okay with it. She was. She had to be. Because she was Cordelia Chase, and Cordelia Chase didn’t pine and mope and have a big pity party like Buffy Summers. She got a facial and got over it; and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Oh, and Angel was going to pay for the facial.

Tbc…


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Twenty-Nine)

“Do you think Willow is happy with Spike?” Anya asked softly while she lazily traced her new initials on Xander’s chest with one finger.

Now there was a surefire way to end the honeymoon. “Thinking about my best bud and the evil undead doesn’t exactly put me in the mood,” Xander warned, badly wanting _not_ to picture those two where he and his bride were right now.

Anya snorted. Why did people always assume she was talking about sex? “I didn’t mean _that_,” she said, patting herself on the back for being euphemistic. She was a married woman now and there were things she was supposed to not say straight out anymore. “I just was wondering if she was happy. Because she didn’t _look_ happy.”

His thoughts went back to Willow’s eyes and Xander decided that his wife had a point. At the time, he’d chalked Willow’s melancholy up to leaving Sunnydale, but what if that wasn’t it? What if she wasn’t happy with Spike? But if she wasn’t… “Why would she be with him if he was making her miserable?”

Why did he always have to do that? She loved Xander very much but they needed to have a talk about him asking questions that ended up leaving her feeling confused and annoyed. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. Thinking about this was depressing. Replacing her finger with her lips against Xander’s chest and letting her hands wander underneath the covers, she tested whether her questions really _had_ killed the mood.

They hadn’t.

Good.

Willow was in the kitchen grabbing some food and Angel was cooing over the brat, so Spike decided to wander into the office and see if he could pass some time by annoying the cheerleader.

She wasn’t there, but Wesley was.

“Good evening, Spike.” Those clipped tones should have reminded Spike of who he once was; oddly, they didn’t. Guess it took more than an accent to make a memory.

“Where is everybody?”

“Cordelia has gone home for the evening, I believe, and as for Fred and Gunn, they went out for tacos.”

There was a palpable frisson of pain winding through Wesley’s words. Strangely, unlike in Sunnydale, it didn’t make Spike hunger to open a vein and find more. Willow might not have been the only one to whose demons the Hellmouth sang a siren song. “What keeps you here then?”

“Research.” What answer was he supposed to give? That he was here because going home alone to eat his heart out over Fred’s romance with Gunn was a dismal prospect? For all the _bonhomie_ the vampire was currently exuding, Wesley was hardly going to forget that Spike _was_ a vampire, and as such, hardly a creature in whom to confide.

“There’s always plenty of that to be done,” Spike agreed, making Wesley more uneasy than ever. What was he about?

Feeling vulnerable and uncertain all of a sudden, friendliness from Spike raising the hair on the back of his neck in anticipation of some sort of strike at his own open wounds, Wesley found himself going on the offensive and asking a question far more personal than he’d intended. “So. This relationship with Angel and Willow. How did that come about?”

Well, well. Spike had expected this question and even had a casual and noncommittal answer ready. But although he had been prepared, he sure as hell had not expected the interrogator to be Wesley. Didn’t know the priggish bastard had the stones. Still waters, apparently. “Can’t say, really. Just did. Not a bad thing, though, I’d say. Keeps Angel happy and on the straight and narrow. Not too bad from where _I’m_ standing, either.”

There was no mention of Willow, and that surprised Wesley a bit – enough, in fact, that he was again provoked into asking a question. “And how is Willow dealing with all of this? Granted, she and I have hardly been close, but I never saw her as the type who…”

“Would shag two blokes at the same time?” Spike was starting to feel sorry for Willow. What the devil did she have to do to break out of the high school geek mold everyone had her in? “There’s a lot more to her than the fuzzy sweaters of bygone days, mate. And even back then she was bedding a werewolf, so she’s never been the conventional type, no matter what you might think. And what’s so terrible about what we’re doing, anyway?”

Spike may have had a point there, now that Wesley considered it – though he could well have done without the disturbingly bestial werewolf imagery. “I meant no offense,” he said. A moment later he wondered why he had just apologized for thinking of Willow as a morally upright woman. Of course, this was not the world he’d grown up in anymore, now was it? Perhaps in the land of demons, adapting to the local customs made more sense.

Saying nothing, Spike decided there was nothing to be gained by staying here and talking to the ex-Watcher. Ragging him about his pathetically unrequited love for Fred would just remind Spike of his own feelings for Angel – though, hell, at least he was getting some, unlike Wesley. Without even a polite nod, he exited the office and headed out into the welcoming darkness for bit. He needed some smokes. When he got back, there’d best be some of that shagging Wesley had just gotten so nosy about.

Willow had eaten quickly, not much caring about anything except refueling. Tonight, she was reasonably sure, would not be another round of sexless cuddling. And though she might reproach herself for her choice of partners, she had to admit she wouldn’t mind. She was a healthy woman with an appetite to match, and that didn’t mean for the tasteless lunchmeat on whole wheat bread she’d just finished swallowing either.

Was that so wrong? Enjoying sex, _needing_ sex? Well, maybe not _needing_ \- she could go without it, but… she sure didn’t want to, even if it did come bearing a boatload of emotional baggage no sane person would volunteer to deal with.

Were all witches like this? Intensely…well…_sexual_ and all? Because honestly, she’d enjoyed sex a lot right from the get-go – even her first time with Oz. First times were supposed to be clumsy and awkward and not so great, but that hadn’t been what she’d had. It had been wonderful and it had stayed wonderful until…well…_until_. Then there had been Tara who was – no offense to Oz – even better.

But now…what she had now was more intense and exciting than any sex she’d ever known and what was hardest for her to accept and deal with was that, from a purely physical standpoint, it was better with Angel – Angel, who was the first partner she’d ever had with whom she was not in love.

There’d always been that assumption in her mind that love would always elevate sex but she wasn’t convinced of that anymore, at least not if she was guided by her own experience. She still loved Spike as fully and deeply as she’d ever loved anyone, was still no closer to loving Angel at all, and yet…

Was it because whenever Spike was inside her, she could feel the way he longed for Angel, the way every touch and caress – despite his skill – was somehow directed at _Angel_ more than her? Or was Angel’s extra hundred years of experience the joker in the deck?

Speaking of Angel, somehow – without meaning to – she’d wandered upstairs to the nursery and there he was. There was something soft and human about him, standing there with his son in his arms. It wasn’t real, but it was beautiful all the same. “Hey,” she said, knowing he didn’t need to hear her voice to know she was there.

Angel looked up from his son and smiled. Willow’s presence was a gift – the two people he loved most in the world were with him now. He decided to take advantage of that to mend fences…and maybe move them to enclose further ground. “About before…I’m…I’m sorry.”

He could see that Willow knew exactly what he was talking about. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I know how strong you are and how powerful. It’s just…it’s easier to see you as a warrior when I’m in the fight with you.”

The words took a moment to gel for Willow, but when they did… It made what she had said a moment ago into the actual truth, or at least close to it. Because she thought maybe she got it. She wasn’t a fighter in the way that Buffy or Spike or Gunn or any of the others were; she didn’t have the muscles or the skill with weapons. She was a witch and that was different – she didn’t _look_ all battle-y and tough. Spike had seen her in action for years; he’d had his mind invaded and memory stolen by her; he had seen her juiced up on borrowed bad magic – it was probably easier for him to remember what she was. Maybe that’s why Angel was the one who loved her. “I understand.”

“From now on I’ll try not to be so…”

“Macho and sexist?” she said with a teasing grin.

He smiled back, enjoying the banter. “Yeah.”

Her posture had relaxed, though she probably hadn’t noticed she was tense, and he was grateful he’d taken this chance. The more she understood him…how he felt… It had to bring them closer, didn’t it?

This was…nice, really. And Willow was glad Angel had apologized and explained his attitude of earlier today. Was it terrible that she wished Spike were here? That they could have sweet, calm moments like this? The closest she’d ever been to this with Spike – at least after she’d fallen in love with him – was when they’d shared her bed the night before Xander’s wedding. And sleeping wasn’t really the same, was it?

She could hate herself until the world ended, but she still wished more than anything that Spike was the one who loved her, that it could be just the two of them somewhere far away.

Maybe to make up for her unspoken cruelty, she walked up to Angel and held out her arms, letting him pass Connor to her. He seemed so pleased whenever she held his son and now was no exception. She stared into the baby’s innocent eyes, knowing that Angel was staring at _her_ all the while.

“Do you think they’ll be happy?” Dawn asked, though the potato chips in her mouth made the question a bit garbled.

Buffy was used to deciphering Dawn through a mouthful of food. Too bad, though, since she would have kind of liked an excuse not to answer that question. Because, yes, amazingly, just talking about what happened with Willow had made her lust for Spike fade a whole lot, but it didn’t mean she was totally thrilled about the idea of him and Willow together. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “Willow is kind of on the rebound. What with everything she’s been through with her magic and all… I just don’t know.” Uh-oh. There was a light in Dawn’s eyes now. Buffy hastened to put it out. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t. And either way, I don’t see her getting back together with Tara.”

Dawn finished crunching her chips and swallowed as she leaned heavily against the back of the sofa. Was she that obvious? Guess she had to be since figuring stuff out wasn’t exactly one of Buffy’s superpowers. Buffy was right this time, though, and thinking about it, Dawn felt sorta guilty for hoping otherwise. It was just…seeing Tara and how unhappy she was… But the good old days were gone, huh? No more Tara making pancakes and Willow singing really off-key in the shower. No more cuddling with them on the couch while Tara braided her hair. Life sucked.

“It could be worse,” Dawn mused. “Willow could be with Angel.” Oh darn! She hadn’t meant to say anything about… But no worries. Buffy would just think she was making a bad joke, right?

Buffy laughed. Leave it to Dawn to put things in perspective. Of course, that reminded her of Willow’s own joke to that effect. It made her miss her friend. “Yeah. That would be worse. Although I think Wesley would be worst of all,” she quipped.

Phew. That was a close call. Good thing Buffy had never seen what Dawn and Tara had. Sometimes she was kinda glad that Buffy thought she was the center of the universe. “Eww! Wesley!” Dawn squealed, glad to have a tangent to go off on.

Buffy giggled at Dawn’s scrunched-up ‘eww’ face and leaned back next to her sister. Without warning, she pulled Dawn into a hug. “Willow and Spike are going to be happy. Just the way they should be. And so are we. I promise.”

Well, well. No surprise finding Willow and Angel all cozy in Angel’s room when Spike got back with his smokes. Made it a much shorter deal to get the shagging going, and that was a good thing. So why was he irritated, wishing Angel had been the only one there? Not like anything good ever happened when he was alone with the witch-besotted prick anyway. But his mind kept flashing back to that morning in the shower and he just kept hanging on to that foolish, worthless hope.

“The gang’s all here,” he said, not quite conversationally, as he closed the door behind him.

“Spike,” Willow said, turning to him with her eyes full of that love that he couldn’t give back. Bugger this. He was tired of guilt and of thinking.

Shucking his duster and throwing it at a chair, he strode to Angel and pulled him into a short but passionate kiss. “It’s been too long. What do you say we all get reacquainted?”

Angel was taken aback for a moment by Spike’s actions, but the truth was that he’d missed the contact – even with Spike. And now that his boy had started the ball rolling, he had a feeling Willow would come along for the ride.

Willow watched, caught between anticipation and disappointment, as Spike kissed Angel. She decided not to think about her own frustrated longing for what she could never have. What she _could_ have was this, and if it wasn’t her dream come true, it was better than a lonely bed in an empty room. Her fingers began to work the buttons of her blouse. It’s showtime, folks.

Nice to see that Red was on board; there was no better way to get his sire in the mood. Best not to think of that. Instead, Spike concentrated on the vision of Angel undoing his trousers, only briefly shrouded by the t-shirt he was pulling over his head.

At last. The sight of Willow – naked on his bed – was almost enough to make Angel's heart beat again. It had only been a few days, but he felt as if he’d been celibate for decades – luckily minus the weakness from living on rats that had accompanied his last stint in the metaphorical monastery. He felt Spike’s hands winding around his waist and despite his erection, he was disappointed. He’d wanted Willow first. But…good things come to those who wait. Willow scooted to the far side of the bed. The decision was made.

It felt as if he were starving and Angel was the last source of blood on Earth. Spike could barely wait to touch him…taste him. As soon as Willow had made room, he and Angel were on the bed and Spike’s mouth was on his sire’s cock.

Lying back, eyes closed, Angel couldn’t help but be swept away by the sensation of Spike’s lips moving up and down. His boy knew what to do, and that was a fact. The swirl of his tongue, the suction – it was good. But there was a way this could be even better. He opened his eyes and motioned for Willow. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to be idle.

It took a moment, but Willow figured out Angel’s silent request. She hated to intrude on Spike’s time with him, but… She moved up the bed and, with her knees on either side of his head, she held onto the headboard as Angel tasted her.

He was incredible – just as he always was. As wonderful as Tara had been at oral sex, Angel was a god. Was it the cool tongue? The fact that he didn’t need to breathe? Analysis was quickly becoming impossible as thought was consumed by sensation. Higher and higher she rode the crest until she cried out as she came – hard.

Willow’s release was followed only seconds later by Angel’s own, the taste of her on his tongue as he spilled himself down Spike’s throat. He wanted her to lie beside him, let him watch her face as she came down from the high. But she seemed to have a different idea.

One thing Willow had never wanted to be was selfish in bed. She and Angel had both come, but Spike… no one had touched him yet. And okay, maybe she wasn’t his first choice, but still…

She tried to be playful, crooking her finger in a come hither gesture, and she guessed it sorta worked. At least Spike was following her lead. She got Angel’s point about silent communication. She and Tara had kinda been talkers, but it seemed less than sexy here.

Leave it to Willow to be the one who was concerned about him getting off. But he wasn’t going to complain; he was hard and aching and, as he lay down next to his sire, he supposed he was too far gone to care who took him where he needed to go. Besides, the chit wasn’t half bad when it came to giving head. She was no vampire, but she knew how to use those soft little hands of hers to make up for the gag reflex and the breathing and all. Plus, that warm mouth was no bad thing. He caught the flash of golden jealousy in Angel’s eyes as Willow did her work.

Yeah, that wasn’t so bad either.

Tbc…


	31. Chapter Thirty

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty)

  
Buffy was awake, but it was still too early for phone calls – non-oh-my-god-there’s-an-apocalypse-right-now phone calls, anyway – so the ring of the phone was both surprising and foreboding. Still, she went over and answered it. How bad could it be, right? And had she just asked herself that question? This was Sunnydale – and the life of a Slayer. It could be very, very bad. “Hello?”

“Buffy.” That British accent had once been as familiar as her mother’s own kind voice. It had been just as gone for months.

“Hey, Giles.” Trying for casual and probably failing. But she sort of thought that bursting into tears and begging him to come back wouldn’t go over well. Besides, who wanted to admit to their just-like-a-father that they couldn’t hack it as a grown-up and needed their Daddy to come and make it all better?

“I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend the wedding.” There was so much else Giles wanted to say, but he could scarcely find the words. What do you say, after all, to the daughter you abandoned? He looked around at the flat he hadn’t bothered to personalize since returning to London and wondered why he’d come back at all. He’d felt such nostalgic longing for the land of his birth that somehow he’d missed the transition when it had ceased to be…well…_home_.

“Oh.” Buffy felt her heart sink and wondered just how much pain anyone could actually feel.

“I assume Xander and Anya are still on their honeymoon.”

“No. They didn’t take one. Anya said they didn’t need to spend extra money just for a place to…do newlywed things.” Why was she deferring to his stuffy sensibilities? She should have pulled an Anya and shocked him. “Besides, Willow was here and they wanted to spend some time with her and…” Oh God. What had she just blundered into now? Great. She was going to have to tell Giles all about what had been going on.

“Willow was there, did you say? Isn’t she always?” Giles asked, feeling that sense of dread he’d once thought peculiar to actually being _in_ Sunnydale.

Buffy decided to try and explain without really explaining. She used to be good at that, back when her Mom had no idea she was the Slayer and there were weird stains and mystical tattoos to be accounted for along with lots of late-night ‘study sessions’ which mysteriously failed to result in better grades. “She lives in Los Angeles now. She’s working for Angel.” It beat ‘I sent her out of town because I didn’t want to deal with a problem with magic it turned out she didn’t actually have.’ Was it so terrible that she didn’t want Giles to hate her? Didn’t she already hate herself enough?

And the sense of dread intensified. For all the months Giles had been gone and had never telephoned Buffy, he still knew her as well as he ever did. He knew she was hiding something.

But did he even have the right to call her out on her obfuscation? It was he, after all, who had initiated this break, left the children – not children anymore, he supposed, but to him, children always – on their own, told them they no longer needed to rely on him. How could he justly step back into their lives now? He could not imagine that they would appreciate it, and at any rate, if anything had been _truly_ wrong, wouldn’t someone have informed him?

They wouldn’t though, would they? Because he had left them all and had barely kept in touch. The occasional email – email, ye gods – and that was all. They owed him nothing and would ask for nothing. He didn’t suppose they even wanted anything from him now.

“Giles, are you still there?” Buffy’s voice pierced his reverie.

“Yes, yes. I’m simply…surprised that Willow moved to Los Angeles, that’s all.” Did it have something to do with her magic, he wondered? “Did Tara…?”

“No,” Buffy answered, hoping that simple word would be good enough. After all, Tara had broken up with Willow right before he left. He could just assume they never got back together, right? It was sort of true.

“Oh. That’s too bad. I was hoping…”

“Willow’s doing fine. She’s handling this one a lot better than the break-up with Oz.” Couldn’t call _that_ a lie, that was for sure.

Buffy’s tone had been oddly short and Giles was nonplussed. Perhaps she resented his inquiries. He didn’t suppose he blamed her for that, especially since he had yet to inquire about… “How have you been?” he finally said. “I’m sorry. I should have asked right away, it’s just… This is terribly awkward, isn’t it?” He was stunned by his own honesty.

“Yeah. I…it is.” There were tears in Buffy’s eyes that she was so glad he couldn’t see. But then she said, “I miss you,” and she was pretty sure he could hear the emotion in her voice.

“I miss you, too,” Giles answered, the words stumbling as they emerged. Sometimes the truth was like that.

That was what did it, hearing Giles get that tone that said he was actually feeling something. It broke her and Buffy began to cry. She tried saying, “Everything’s fine, it really is,” but it didn’t sound too convincing as a hiccup-y sob.

Giles murmured a few consoling words, sounds really, but his mind was at work making plans. How wrong he’d been to think he was no longer wanted…or needed. His decision was made. It was time to go…home. A quick stop in Los Angeles to fetch Willow and find out what the devil had made her think it was a good idea to leave her home and her friends, and then he would be on his way back to Sunnydale. He had been wrong to leave himself; but it wasn’t too late. He still had a chance to make things right.

Saying nothing to Buffy about his impending return, he let her calm herself and fill him in on such minutiae as her job – a fast food worker? – and how Dawn was doing in school before hanging up with a promise that they would talk soon. He immediately went online – that dread machine did have its uses – to book an airline ticket – one way.

Later on, it would occur to him that he hadn’t asked about the wedding or how Tara was faring, but it hardly mattered, did it? He’d see everyone and have the chance to catch up once he was back in Sunnydale.

As she put the phone back in the cradle, Buffy felt both better and worse than she had before. On the one hand, it meant so much to know that Giles cared. He had promised - _promised_ \- to keep in touch more often, and she knew he never made promises he wouldn’t keep, but still…she missed him. She missed him so much. He had always been more than her Watcher – he’d been the father she needed and wanted and had never actually had. Living without him…

If he’d been here, none of the bad things would have happened. She never would have slept with Spike – she was sure of it. And if he’d been here, he’d have figured out how to help Willow deal with her magic and not have to leave Sunnydale to be okay; she was sure of that, too. He’d have figured out _everything_ and Buffy’s life wouldn’t be such an unholy mess. She’d have had someone she could really talk to who could help her make sense of things and get it – life – right.

The next time he called, she would tell him the truth – all of it.

The sound of the shower running – it was a sad rain. She knew Spike wished he was sharing it with Angel and the fact that she’d declined the unspoken invitation was a poor consolation prize. It hurt, though, the way he wished he wasn’t in bed with her and only her. Maybe that was why she started a conversation with a question she knew would only antagonize him. “So, what happened with you and Buffy?”

“Would’ve thought she’d told you that,” Spike groused. He’d expected the question, though, and he supposed she deserved the answer. “We shagged. Seemed like more at the time, but then again, I hadn’t had any in awhile.” He remembered having loved Buffy, but the feeling was gone and it was like a page in a history book – names and dates and body counts, but you didn’t feel like you were fighting the battle.

“That’s kinda what Buffy said.”

“Is it now?” That shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was and it made him angry. The bitch had some nerve dismissing him like that. And if he was a hypocrite, he didn’t give a damn. He was tired of being easily cast aside. Once, just once, he wanted to be the one who walked away with the shallowest cuts and the fewest scars.

The anger in Spike’s eyes made Willow wish she’d lied. She tried to fix the damage. “Without the part where she hadn’t had any in awhile. I think she was kind of jealous, actually, but she didn’t want to admit it.”

Would there ever be a time when Red would just be an unmitigated bitch to him? Let him hate her or at least be irritated without trying to fix things and making it all wrong? Damn her. Some bloody bright idea this had all been. He might have been better off if he had just eaten his heart out over Angel. He could have hated Willow then.

Spike was all silent now and he didn’t look any less angry. Right now a lonely shower seemed like a really great idea. Getting up and hastily dressing, Willow left the room without another word.

Lying on the bed, Spike tried not to think. Instead, he threw off the sheet and waited for his sire. Hope – it was the one thing inside him that was alive.

Angel came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, not all that surprised to find that Willow was gone. He said nothing to Spike, merely heading to the closet to get a change of clothes.

Bastard. Not so much as a nod to the one who loved him more than his own unlife. What the hell would it take? Did he have to grow a pair of tits and pull a rabbit out of a hat or something? “I shagged the Slayer, you know. Before she asked me to bring Willow here. She was practically begging me for another go ‘round when I was at the wedding. Didn’t mention you once.” And then he waited, hoping Angel was hurting, even if it was just a blow to his almighty ego.

Spike and Buffy? It was a shock, that was for sure, though he didn’t turn around or do anything else that might give that away. Instead, he dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of charcoal cashmere slacks and then a grey silk shirt. “She can have sex with whoever she wants. She isn’t my girlfriend anymore.” Certain of his composure now that he’d spoken so disinterestedly, he turned around.

But how did he really feel? He was annoyed, more than anything, he decided. His ego might have taken a hit had he not already had her and gotten over her. It didn’t bother him nearly as much as if he’d thought Spike had slept with _Willow_ while they were at the wedding, that was for sure. He wondered why Spike had chosen to reveal this tidbit now, but then again, why did Spike do anything? It was childish temper over not being given what he was never promised in the first place.

“Glad to know you’re so open-minded there, Peaches.” Could nothing ever, _ever_, go his way? Was it too much to ask that Angel feel _something_, just a small spot of agony, over what Spike had done?

Spike looked pained and disappointed. Good. The wretched boy had what Angel wanted most – and it wasn’t that tumble with Buffy. As long as Willow loved Spike… He’d fuck him – and even enjoy it – but he wouldn’t like him. “I’m going to check on Connor and then see what’s on the agenda for the agency today.” He strode out of the room, cool and confident, not needing to turn around and look at the battlefield to know he’d won today’s fight.

It wasn’t a long shower – Willow wasn’t really interested in a sensual experience right now – just a way to rinse off the physical traces of last night’s sexual marathon and clean up. There were errands she needed to run and she was glad she’d held onto the rental car. It was time for her to buy a car of her own, or at least lease one or something. She had no idea why she hadn’t thought of that until now. Maybe she’d been stubbornly clinging to the idea that this was all temporary.

For all her wishful-thinking second thoughts back in Sunnydale, however, she was well aware that the Hellmouth wasn’t safe for her. The pull of the darkness had been tangible and it got worse by the hour. One day had been a long enough visit and she knew that, even if it hurt. Had she given in and allowed herself the sentimental folly of being persuaded to stay, who knew what tragedy might have resulted? Dawn’s broken arm would probably seem like a fond memory of innocent times.

Besides, Spike wouldn’t have stayed with her, and she couldn’t let go of him. Sure, giving up the sex with Angel would be tough, too, but despite her appetites, she really was all about love when it came down to it. And it was Spike who held her heart, and thus held tightly to _her_. Even if Angel was the one who loved her.

She should hate Spike, shouldn’t she? But she couldn’t. No matter how much it had hurt last night when she was sucking his cock and his eyes were locked on Angel and then when he’d been inside her and his eyes had closed and she knew he wasn’t seeing her at all. He tried, she knew he did, but he was a demon and the tenderness of charity wasn’t in his nature. He gave what he could and she’d have to content herself with the sparse meal that was.

Did Angel feel like this? Did she leave him as sad and aching as Spike left her? Oh how she hoped not. He didn’t deserve that, even if he hurt Spike by not loving him. As giving as she tried to be, she would try that much harder, be that much more giving and attentive next time they had sex. After all, Angel was always so giving and considerate with her. Her skin reddened as she remembered just how much he’d done for her last night – the way he’d tasted her, the way he’d taken her hard and fast and made her scream, the way he’d kissed every inch of her body as she lay panting and spent beside him.

It would be a better memory if she didn’t wish she could give it all to Spike, even if it wouldn’t make him love her just a tiny bit for her gift. Because that was being in love, wasn’t it? His blue eyes were the first things she saw when she awakened and the last thing she wanted to see before she died, even if he didn’t want to see her at all.

So why did she love him? He was selfish and often careless, but he could also be so kind – like when they were in Sunnydale. And he was honest – in his way. He was who he was – handsome and funny and gentle and poetic even as he could be manipulative and brutal and evil and demonic. She thought of Nietzsche for a moment: “So cold, so icy that one burns one’s fingers on him! Every hand is startled when touching him. – And for that very reason some think he glows.” Spike did glow, though, he really did – at least Willow saw it that way. That, too, she supposed, was love. Why did she love Spike? Because she did – that was the only answer there had ever been or would ever be.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts as she dressed herself, she began to focus instead on the stores she needed to visit and the things she needed to buy. The grocery store, for sure. Ralphs or Vons Pavilion? Vons, she decided. They had a better deli and she wanted to buy some lox and some pastrami along with the other groceries she needed. Of course, she could always drive to Pasadena and go to Hows. She’d heard from a client that _their_ deli was as good as a grocery store deli could possibly be. That was where she’d go, then. She could run the rest of her errands in Pasadena as well, she was sure. There had to be a botanica there or something, didn’t there? Someplace where she could pick up some herbs and oils? She missed the Magic Box. Psychic Eye sucked and that clerk at Pan Pipes gave her the creeps.

Grateful that she’d been able to distract herself with trivialities, Willow finished dressing, then opened up her laptop to look up the address and directions to Hows as well as scout out an occult supply shop. Then she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out. She’d be gone for hours. That would probably be a good thing.

Tbc…


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-One)

It was almost dark by the time Willow got back to the hotel. She was never going to get used to L.A. traffic. And it was constant. How could so many people be driving around at 2 in the afternoon? Didn’t anyone have a job? It had taken her forever just to get from one end of Pasadena to the other, never mind getting back to the Hyperion.

She didn’t want to think about the cost of living here either. If Anya found out how much they were getting for oils at Alexandria II, Sunnydale’s Wiccans were going to wake up to find the prices at The Magic Box doubled. Of course, she supposed the outrageous price of dove’s heart oil was more than offset by her finding that they sold lox trimmings at Hows for less than half the price of a pound of regular lox. Since she wasn’t all that into keeping kosher anymore, she was more than happy to make the switch. Same taste and a whole lot less money.

Thoughts of dollars spent here and saved there continued to occupy her thoughts as she put away her groceries and she was startled when she heard a noise behind her.

“Spike!” she cried, clutching her chest. “You scared me.”

He chuckled as he leaned against the wall. He was trying for insouciance, but to be honest, it was more inebriation. Peaches had been in a right awful pet with Willow gone all day and Spike had drowned his hurt feelings in a generous amount of whiskey. Looking for more was what had brought him down here only to see her fussing about in the kitchen. “Sorry.” He meant it, too. Sure, scaring people was fun, but this wasn’t people, this was Willow. “Where were you all day?”

“Pasadena,” she answered, noting the slight slur to his words. He was drunk and it made her heart clench with pity. “I had to pick up some food and some oils and stuff. No luck finding the herbs I needed.” Which meant a trip to Pan Pipes. Goody. Dealing with the angry, creepy sales guy again.

Pasadena was a ways away, wasn’t it? Didn’t make sense she had to go so far afield for provisions, but who was Spike to ask questions. Probably wanted to just get away for a bit – away from him. Which _did_ make sense. Had to be hard for her to watch him pining away for Angel, what with how she felt about him and all. “How do you stand it, pet?” he asked, alcohol washing away the barriers to emotion and honesty.

“Stand what? Pasadena? It wasn’t that bad. It’s kind of like Sunnydale. Only bigger. With more traffic. Oh, and ruder people. And uglier buildings.” She realized she was babbling, trying to steer the conversation into the trivialities she was finding a welcome distraction. “Okay, maybe not much like Sunnydale, but still not that bad. In fact, there was this really cool newsstand on Colorado that even had the Sunnydale paper and…”

What the hell was she going on about? “I didn’t mean bloody Pasadena. I meant this. Me. How do you just smile and act like everything’s okay?” He really wanted to know. She never snapped at him or tried to wound him the way he did to Angel. She was good as good could be to him and it was just… It confused him.

This was exactly what she was afraid he was talking about. What was she supposed to say? It probably didn’t matter. He was drunk. Tomorrow he wouldn’t remember a word of this. “It _is_ okay.” Along with the words, she offered a smile.

Being lied to didn’t make him feel better. “’M not so drunk that I can’t see what’s what and it’s not okay. Or maybe it’s okay for _you_. But if it is…” His voice broke. Damn the whiskey for the way it opened him up like fangs at a soft, white throat. “If it is, then tell me how you manage.” He was pleading now. How the hell had he gotten here?

The break in Spike’s voice undid her – all the love he felt for Angel was in that hitch…and so was all the love Willow felt for Spike. “It’s not okay,” she said softly. In an instant, she was in Spike’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her close. “I hurt you. I know that. And I’m gonna keep hurting you. If I could do something about it…” But he couldn’t. Even with Willow’s warm body next to his, all he could think of was cool skin and large hands and brown eyes that would never look into his own and shine with love. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Willow began to cry.

They stayed like that for a time, each of them pouring out their pain and grief in tears that would be gone long before the agony – if indeed that would ever be gone. Then Willow let go.

“I better finish putting my stuff away,” she said at last.

Spike thought of offering to help, but it wasn’t as if he knew where anything in the kitchen but Weetabix and alcohol were kept. Instead, he watched as she stowed away the last of the food she’d bought.

“Guess you better go find the others now. Angel’ll wanna know you’re back.”

With a sigh, Willow resigned herself to doing just that. But then, as she was almost out of the kitchen, she turned around. “I love you.” She couldn’t imagine why she chose now as the time to say it out loud.

“I know.” And he did, but the words cut like a knife blade dipped in holy water all the same.

‘It doesn’t matter that you don’t love me back.”

She was gone before he could contradict her.

It was strange, she thought, why no one else had said anything about this. Or maybe they were just so caught up in their own stuff that they hadn’t even thought about it. But Dawn wasn’t Buffy or Xander or Anya and she thought about things – like the fact that Angel and Cordelia and even Willow herself had said she was in really bad shape awhile back. Which was one thing if Willow was a junkie or still on the Hellmouth, but she hadn’t been either. Was it just Dawn or did that seem kind of…wrong?

She wished there was someone she could talk to about this, but Dawn was pretty sure that if there was something bad about it, it would be all about Angel, and that meant Buffy was off-limits. Xander and Anya were still on their honeymoon. And Tara was _definitely_ not on the list, that was for sure. How could she even think about taking this to her?

If only Giles was here or she could call him. But even if she had his number, he was way over in England and Buffy would have a giant hissy fit if Dawn made an expensive long distance call like that.

So here she was, stuck with trying to figure this all out on her own.

It would be easy to blame it on Willow, but even after all the stuff with the broken arm and everything, Dawn just didn’t see Willow lying – at least not without a really good reason. And besides, there was no way Cordelia would lie on Willow’s say-so, so it couldn’t have been Willow’s idea.

Nope, nosirree, and just plain no. This whole thing seemed like Angel. Now, _he_ had always been big on lying and keeping secrets and all kinds of underhandedness – like not even telling Buffy he was a vampire (Though, hello – Slayer? How come Buffy hadn’t known anyway?) and then persuading her not to tell anyone he was back from Hell. That wasn’t even counting all his evil Angelus stuff. Yup, this had Angel written all over it. In big letters.

Okay. Now she was getting somewhere. She at least knew who was behind it. But why?

She thought back to her talk with Tara and a chill went up her spine – the kind of chill she’d felt when Willow had taken her to Rack’s.

Tara was right to have been worried. Angel wanted Willow and obviously this was way more serious than the broody, pathetic crush Dawn had thought it was. But how had he persuaded Willow to go along with his scheme? Because no way did Willow know about the lusting-after-her thing. Buffy was Willow’s best friend and there was no way she would be okay with Buffy’s boyfriend (well, ex-boyfriend who she still mooned over all the time) liking her that way. She’d have never gone there to begin with if she’d known and if she had gotten a clue even now, she’d have left for sure. But that wasn’t comforting, because as long as she was clueless, it just meant he could keep being sneaky and doing nefarious things.

Of course, there _was_ Spike now and…

Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. Spike. He and Willow weren’t together at first, but now… Now, for sure he was looking out for her and what with Angel being his sire and all, he had to be able to tell what Angel was feeling and stuff, even if he didn’t tell Willow (After all, that would just upset her and she’d want to leave and then Spike would be out of a job). Heck, Spike was probably why Willow told them all the truth when they were here, because he had convinced her it was the right thing to do. And from now on, he would be there to keep her from getting deceived and falling for Angel’s stupid ideas.

Yup. It didn’t even matter about the lying before. After all, she’d been really vulnerable then and Angel knew how to use that ‘I have a soul’ thing to make people think he was a good guy. It wasn’t as if Willow could have come home anyway, what with the Hellmouth being such a problem for her. But now? Now Willow wasn’t alone and gullible anymore and she could even do magic again. Besides, it wasn’t like Angel’s crush could go anywhere. Hello? Gypsy curse? Seeing her with someone she could actually, you know, _be_ with would keep him in line from now on. As long as she had Spike, Willow was okay.

This thinking things out on her own stuff wasn’t so hard after all. In fact, Dawn decided, she was actually pretty good at it.

Instead of going to the office, Willow decided to go upstairs to stow her purse, the newspaper, and her oils – the price of which still rankled. Five dollars for a tiny bottle? With the amount she needed, Alexandria II had picked her pocket to the tune of forty dollars plus tax.

She walked into the small hotel room, taking in the dated wallpaper and furniture as if she was seeing them for the first time, which was weird. But then again, so was everything else about her life these days. Strange how it didn’t seem nearly as different from the room she’d called hers at Buffy’s house as it had when she’d first come here. Stranger still was that it wasn’t that this room was homier, just that the room at Buffy’s was so much less.

“Hey,” came a voice from the doorway. Guess she’d left the door open.

“Hi, Fred.”

Willow looked kinda sad or lost or something, Fred thought, and it made her more determined than ever to say what she’d come here to say. But she wasn’t quite sure how to be all subtle and smooth about it so she just sort of came to the point. “Look, if you’re worried about what we all think or anything, don’t be. Because you and Angel and Spike? It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like y’all are the first threesome I’ve ever known. Back in college, my roommate...” Fred stopped as she noticed that Willow still looked uncomfortable. She didn’t get it, but she didn’t know Willow all that well, even after all this time, so maybe she should just back off a little bit. “The point is, it’s okay for you to be with them. Nobody thinks there’s anything wrong with it.”

Before she could say anything, Willow found herself pulled into a quick but heartfelt hug. Fred was a sweet girl and the acceptance was… It was nice, even if Fred didn’t have a clue what was really going on. “Thanks,” she said, hoping that was good enough. After all, what else could she say?

“Did you have fun shoppin’?” Willow suddenly felt a rush of fondness for Fred. She knew when to change the subject.

“I just picked up some groceries and oils. Oh, and a Sunnydale newspaper. There’s a place on Colorado Blvd. that has newspapers from everywhere. They had some cheesy paranormal magazines, too, but I didn’t buy any.”

“Ooh! Did they have _Fate_?”

Fred had the happiest grin on her face and Willow couldn’t help but smile back. “Yep. That and more astrology magazines than I ever knew existed. Same went for the knitting magazines. Do that many people really knit?”

“You should see the newsstand on Cahuenga. They have all kinds of weird magazines. And the porn! Some of it’s stuff I’ve never even done.” O-kay. Now Willow had no idea what to say.

As it turned out, she wasn’t going to get the chance to think of anything.

Another voice from the doorway. “You’re back.” Angel’s voice was soft and calm.

Fred, however, immediately began bouncing on her toes. “I’ll just leave you guys alone then. We’ll talk later.” And with that, she was out the door. Angel closed it behind her.

“I was gonna go downstairs and talk to you, but Fred came in and…”

“It’s okay.” It struck Angel that Willow was nervous and fidgety, as if she was worried that he was angry at her – that she had to report in to him. Was that how he acted? Maybe it was. He was trying to get a handle on his sense of ownership, but there was only so much a demon could do. Still, he knew how much his possessiveness bothered Willow and it would behoove him to at least appear to be reining it in. “You don’t have to check in with me, you know.”

“I know.” Of course, that was pretty much a lie. But for the second time in as many days, Angel was surprising her. He was trying; he was trying really hard. “But thanks.”

He smiled at her and tried to make small talk. “Did you have fun?” He hated himself for hoping she didn’t.

“It was just a grocery run – oh and I had to get some oils. I guess the one sort of fun thing was finding a Sunnydale newspaper.”

“Some night soon, you and I can go to Melrose. Spike, too,” Angel offered, remembering just in time to include the third wheel. “It’s pretty colourful.”

“Sounds neat,” Willow replied, not really sure what Angel even meant by colourful. “So. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“We picked up a divorce case.”

Huh? “I didn’t think we handled divorce cases.”

“This one’s a little special. The wife says her husband’s a shapeshifter and that he’s been cheating on her in another form. She’s also worried he’s gonna take their kid.”

“Oh. Want me to do a clarifying spell? That should sort it all out. I mean, at least it would tell us if he even is a shapeshifter or if she’s just kinda loony.”

Angel chuckled. Even now, he was amazed by all the things Willow could do. “Great, thanks. That sounds like just the ticket.”

It was, too, in more ways than one. Being useful – it was a good thing. This reminded Willow that there were reasons for her being here that were neither selfish nor sexual, and that was exactly what she needed. She grabbed some supplies and headed for the door; Angel followed her. She’d require something the woman touched in order to connect to the husband.

First class was ridiculously expensive, but after having peeked into coach, Giles was pleased with himself for having elected to pay the exorbitant cost. On a flight of this length, it was an absolute necessity to have leg room. Proper food and fine champagne didn’t hurt either.

He leaned back, removing his glasses and closing his eyes, his mind noisy with thought. No, he wasn’t questioning his decision to return to California, but he was wondering, as he had been since first speaking to Buffy, just what sort of a mess he was going to find when he got there.

What on Earth, he asked himself for the hundredth time, had driven Willow to choose to work for Angel? It wasn’t as if they had ever been friends. Yes, she’d given him back his soul, but as far as Giles was aware, Angel had never so much as thanked her for that. The two barely spoke. Try as he might, Giles could not imagine a rational set of circumstances under which Willow would abandon her duties in Sunnydale to assist Angel in his rather dubious activities in Los Angeles.

Was it some sort of childish overreaction to her falling out with Tara? Given the way she’d handled the break-up of her relationship with Oz, that seemed the most logical explanation. Willow was prone to taking romantic difficulties rather badly.

Or did this have something to do with magic? That possibility was a troubling one and Giles was loath to consider it. Still, as much as he wanted to believe that she had the strength to get herself back on track, there was a chance that she hadn’t.

Well, either way, in a matter of hours, he would see for himself how the land lay and how best to help Willow see her way clear to doing the right thing and going home. No matter what her problems were, they’d be better dealt with surrounded by her friends.

He could only imagine how lost Buffy must feel with Willow gone. Their friendship had always been such a constant in her life. Giles felt guiltier than ever for leaving now that he knew Willow hadn’t been there. Buffy was so much more than his Slayer – how could he have just walked away in the manner that he had? After all, no matter how old children grew, they never lost the need for family, for love, for support. And with all she’d been through…losing her mother…dying…being brought back…

Rupert Giles had been a very bad father indeed. He sat up for a moment and drank down the entire glass of champagne left by the gracious and efficient flight attendant. Hopefully, it would help him sleep through the rest of the flight. His thoughts were no friends of his right now.

Tbc…


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Two)

Another morning starting slowly after waking up, slightly sore, in Angel’s bed. Willow wasn’t sure her body was ever going to get used to the kind of sexual athletics that predominated in her relationship with Spike and Angel.

But she wasn’t going to let it get in the way of work. Turned out their new client’s husband really _was_ a shapeshifter. Now she just had to figure out how they were going to surveil the man/demon and find out if he was really the bad guy his wife claimed he was or if he was just the innocent victim of a woman looking to come out way ahead in a divorce by using anything she could to make it happen. Oh, and there was a five year old boy mixed up in all of this, too.

Now Willow understood why they didn’t usually take divorce cases. Lopping the heads off homicidal demons was so much less emotionally-charged.

She heard a noise from behind her and without turning around, she asked, “Wesley, is that you? Do you know where _Grimson’s Guide_ is? I need to look up shapeshifters.”

This was the first time Giles had heard Willow’s voice in far too long. “Quite a different Watcher, I’m afraid.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he supposed his reception should have included a smile or glad tears or something. That wasn’t what he got.

Willow whirled around to face a man she had never thought she’d see again. “Giles,” she said, striving with all her might to keep her voice as stony as she was sure the expression on her face was. “Guess there aren’t any private investigators in England, huh?” It hurt to even speak to him – another parent who’d left her without a by-your-leave because she just wasn’t good enough. What would he think, she wondered, if he knew where she’d spent last night? Should she even care?

This couldn’t be Willow, could it? She’d never been this cold, not to him, not to anyone. “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

“Why?”

What on Earth did she mean by ‘why’? “I… I heard you had come here to work with Angel and I…” He couldn’t quite think of what to say. Her expression was icy and she stood, arms akimbo, clearly not the least bit pleased to see him. This wasn’t a reaction for which he was prepared.

“What? You wondered why Angel would hire a rank, arrogant amateur?”

Wesley had been on his way to the office to thank Willow for allowing him to try the lox trimmings she’d bought yesterday when the sound of voices stopped him short.

Giles was here.

He could hear the fine thread of anger and pain woven through the cold fabric of Willow’s words. Lord knows he had felt it often enough in the presence of that man. ‘Rank, arrogant amateur.’ Had the man called Willow that? Well, it seemed that Wesley wasn’t the only one who couldn’t live up to the lofty standards of Rupert Giles.

Memories of Sunnydale slammed into him full force and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe – the way he’d been slighted, mocked. The wounds opened once more and he could almost see the blood flow anew. But he wasn’t the timid boy he’d been then, and whatever quarrels they’d once had, Willow wasn’t his enemy. No, she was his friend now – all the more so because she, unlike anyone else from the benighted Hellmouth, actually had cause to dislike him and yet she had never once chided him for being willing to trade her life for the Box of Gavrok. She’d been good to him, never bringing up the past, never remiss in acknowledging what he’d done for her in finding out the truth about her magic – and the man he was now? He could and would defend her.

Later, he’d think about the humour in his presuming to defend the most powerful witch he’d ever known.

Later still, he would acknowledge that this battle was at least his much own as Willow’s.

“Giles? How delightful to see you. Is the Council in need of our help again?” He affected an air of innocence, as if he hadn’t heard a word of what had passed.

“Wesley.” Giles had almost forgotten that the incompetent ex-Watcher worked here. He couldn’t imagine what use the man was, but that was Angel’s business. Willow, on the other hand, was _his_. “Would you mind excusing us? Willow and I were…”

The mask dropped and Wesley’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’m aware. Willow,” he turned his eyes to her, “would you prefer that I leave?”

“Why?” Willow was almost impossibly grateful that Wesley was here. “It’s not like Giles and I really have anything to talk about. I’m sure he’s just here on a layover or something. How much time would he want to spend with a rank, arrogant amateur he hasn’t spoken to in months?” She cursed herself for repeating the words – for letting Giles know just how deeply he’d hurt her. There was no taking it back now, though.

This wasn’t going at all well, was it? Damn it. He’d come here to help. He would have thought that she’d at least be pleased to see him. Honestly, her hostility stunned him. Buffy hadn’t reacted in this fashion and she had more reason to do so, didn’t she? But then Willow’s repetition of his hasty words rang in his ears: “rank, arrogant amateur.” Had those very words, spoken after all, out of fear and concern, truly wounded Willow so deeply? It appeared that they had.

He wanted to explain, but the idea of having a private conversation in the same room with Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was highly unpleasant. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that the man was going anywhere. “I realize that what I said may have seemed, well, unduly harsh, but I was concerned. Your use of magic…”

“Was something in which she should have been guided and mentored from the very beginning.” Wesley drew himself up and moved to Willow’s side. “Power like hers…it was hardly something with which she could be expected to easily cope – particularly not when surrounded by the dark forces of a Hellmouth. Frankly, it’s shocking that she did not descend far more deeply into evil.”

When this was over, Willow was going to do anything it took to make things up to Wesley. What he was doing for her right now… “It’s a good thing I came here. At least now, thanks to Wesley, I know what the problem was and I have control of my powers.”

This was all spinning wildly out of control. Giles fought to make sense of things. “So you are still… But I thought we agreed that you need to stop…?”

“Stop using magic? Are you mad? Surely you had some idea!” Wesley cried. “Willow isn’t some teenage girl experimenting with a Ouija board. She’s a witch of prodigious natural gifts. Magic isn’t something she does, it’s something she _is_.” He wasn’t putting on at all, either. It truly stunned him that Giles could have spent so much time with Willow and failed to realize who she was. “Stopping would be dangerous, both for her and for all the people who might otherwise not be helped by what she can do.”

Oh for a chair, but the only one Giles saw was behind Willow and Wesley. “Yeah. Turns out I’m not some worthless junkie amateur after all. Wesley talked to a big-time coven and it seems I’m actually _supposed_ to do magic. Funny, huh?” Willow sounded bitter and angry and Giles could hardly blame her. His failure was greater than he’d known.

He wondered how he could have missed this. Was it because he kept seeing her as the dewy-eyed innocent she’d once been? Memories of Eyghon and his quest for power told him the answer might be less excusable.

Could it have been envy?

How could he have allowed something so petty…?

But Wesley, damn him, had a point. Willow had been doing spells for years under his very nose and he’d never thought to even offer to guide her. What kind of man was he? He had the knowledge and experience and yet he’d allowed her to wander through the shadows all alone. What might have happened to her was even worse than what actually had and…

“I’m sorry,” Giles offered. “Willow, I am so very sorry.”

There were words exactly suited to occasions such as this: 'Too little, too late.' But that was up to Willow and Wesley was determined not to interfere.

Was he serious? ‘I’m sorry’? Sorry for what? Belittling her since high school – ‘Willow, go look something up on that worthless machine’ – ignoring her pain, using her like some tool instead of a person, abandoning her? She wanted to spit in his face; tell him to go to hell.

But this was Giles. Giles – who had, for all his faults, been the closest thing to a father she’d ever known. And for all that she hated him… She loved him. “Okay,” she said. And with that, the powerful witch proved she was just a weak little girl after all.

As much as he didn’t think Giles deserved her forgiveness, Wesley understood why she gave it. It was who she was, wasn’t it – and forgiving was more about Willow than it was about Giles, at least that was the way Wesley chose to see it. Perhaps that was because he himself would never forgive Rupert Giles, no matter what.

“Is there any chance that we could talk, just the two of us?” Giles asked. He’d bared more than enough of his soul in front of Wesley.

“It’s okay,” Willow said softly to Wesley. “Thank you.” Then she surprised them both by hugging him. What he’d done for her today… He’d been the rock she stood on and she would never forget it. She wondered: Had Fred ever seen this side of him? Had she known what he’d do for those he cared about? But then again – love wasn’t about virtue, was it? No, Fred’s choice would have always been the same. Willow knew that from experience.

Willow’s affectionate gesture moved him and, while he was loath to do it, Wesley acceded to her wishes and departed from the room.

“So,” Willow said as soon as she felt Wesley was out of earshot, “what brings you here?”

“You, actually.”

“Me?”

“When I called and spoke to Buffy she informed me that you had moved here to work with Angel and I must admit that I was rather concerned. I hardly think that’s the whole story, though. Am I wrong?”

Willow felt guiltier than ever about what she was doing. Buffy was such a good friend – putting the best possible spin on things for Giles. “It’s a little more complicated than that. I was…I was sent here. I got sort of out of control and Dawn was hurt and… Well, anyway, everyone decided that I’d be able to give up magic and be better off away from the Hellmouth. And it turns out they were half right. I mean the Hellmouth was making me sort of wacky – losing control and all. Boy did I notice the difference when I went back for the wedding. Spike says…”

“Spike?” Giles interrupted even as he was reeling from what he had just been told. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“Oh. Buffy didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” And why did Willow look nervous?

Was she too old to bite her nails? “He… He was sort of drafted to drive me here and then he stayed and he’s been helping me – and Angel – and...now we’re… He’s kind of my boyfriend now.” That felt like so much more of a lie than it actually was.

Giles barely made it to the nearest chair in time. “But what about Tara?”

More guilt – great. That was just what Willow needed. “It just… There wasn’t any way to get past what happened. I can’t give her what she needs – I can’t be who she needs me to be. There’s always going to be a Tara-shaped space in my heart and she’s always going to own it, but we can’t be together anymore.” She hoped that sounded sincere.

Giles stared at the girl standing before him…and she wasn’t a girl anymore, was she? When had she grown up? Of course there was still the matter of… “How did this relationship with Spike come about?” When he left, the vampire had been nursing a ridiculous crush on Buffy. When had that changed?

Funny how you could always tell when a man was thinking about Buffy. “He’s over her. We’ve talked about it. A lot.” Willow enjoyed the shock on Giles’s face. He was probably wondering if she was telepathic now. No – she’d just spent many a long year seeing that ‘Buffy’ look cross the face of every male she knew. Whether it was platonic or romantic, it was always so much the same. She used to envy Buffy for that, for having a special look that was just for her. Now that she was bedding the love of Buffy’s life, she didn’t know how she felt about that look anymore.

“I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were. And it’s okay. But he’s been honest with me and I’ve been honest with him and we’re…we’re happy. He knows me better than anybody I’ve ever known and it’s…I don’t know…different, I guess. That’s the only way I can describe it.” Now _there_ was honesty for you – at least if you left out the part about being happy. No, she thought, remembering their tearful embrace last night, happy wasn’t the truth at all.

There was more here than he was being told – Giles was sure of that – but he decided not to press her any further. If learning what he had today was a turbulent process for him, he could only imagine what Willow had gone through. And he could read between the lines well enough to figure out that she’d obviously been sent here in anger. It seemed that Giles wasn’t the only one who’d abandoned Willow. Turning to Spike under such circumstances…well, he could hardly stand in judgment of her. But that didn’t mean for a moment that he trusted the vampire’s motives.

“What sort of work are you doing here?” Giles asked, eager to change the subject. It would hardly do to let Willow see his doubts and fears, not when he was trying to mend their relationship.

“Oh, it’s kind of a little bit of this and little bit of that.” Come to think of it, what _would_ her job description be? “I help with research, sometimes whip up a little mojo.” She winced, still worried that even after what he’d been told, Giles would still see her doing magic as something bad and wrong. “It’s not like before. I swear.”

“I know.” His heart ached. That was fear in her eyes. How had they come to a place where she was terrified to be honest with him? “Frankly, what…what was said” – he couldn’t bear to say Wesley’s name – “well, it makes enormous sense and…I should have seen it myself – long ago, in fact. I meant what I said, you know. I truly am very sorry. I only hope that, well, that you’ll forgive me. You’re far from an amateur. I think I knew that all along.” He wanted to go further, but Willow wasn’t the only one afraid in this room. What he did do, however, was stand and pull her into his arms. While he was normally not one for physical displays, the occasion certainly called for it now. “I’m very sorry,” he repeated.

At the rate she’d been crying lately… but she couldn’t help it. Giles was hugging her and acknowledging her and he had even said he was sorry again. But if he knew – if he knew what was really happening here – he wouldn’t be sorry at all. He’d hate her and despise her and all of this would be gone.

She clung to Giles. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“So am I.” Now, however, everything he’d hoped to accomplish had changed. He let go and looked into Willow’s eyes. “I take it that you won’t be returning to Sunnydale?”

“Willow!” a cheerful, Texan drawl called out. “Can you watch Connor? I think Angel snuck out to check on that shapeshifter guy and me and Gunn have to…” Fred came bounding into the office. “Oh, I didn’t know you were talking to someone.” She addressed the visitor. “Are you a new client?”

“No, I’m not, I…” He was addressing the woman who’d come in, but his eyes were fixed on Willow’s face. She was clearly frightened.

“This is Giles. Buffy’s Watcher, remember?” Please let Fred just shut up now. No one was supposed to know about Connor.

“I take it Connor is your son?” Giles asked politely.

Sadly, with Giles staring at her, Willow could do nothing to stop what came next.

“Oh no, he’s Angel’s son. And you should see how good Willow is with him. Well, she’s practically his mom now, but…” Why did Willow look so… Oh shoot. Fred wanted to kick herself. Had she just said something she shouldn’t have? “Well, I’m sure he’ll be okay for awhile. Lorne just put him down for a nap before he left and… Yeah. Gunn and I have to go.” She did her best to apologize to Willow with her eyes before dashing out of there. Hadn’t Willow told everyone everything when she was at that wedding? She was sure someone had told her that’s what happened.

“Did I hear that young woman correctly? Angel has…a son?” How on Earth could that even be possible?

“It was kind of a mystical thing,” Willow tried to explain. “This evil law firm brought Darla back and…”

“Darla? How the devil did they…?”

“I don’t know. But they did, and then she and Angel sort of…well…you know and she got pregnant and… She had Connor. She staked herself right after he was born in order to save him. He’s a special little boy. Angel loves him. We all do.” Willow took a breath. “Please don’t tell Buffy, okay? He didn't lose his soul or anything. And besides, Angel doesn’t want her to know.”

“I suppose I can understand that.” Giles hoped his words mollified Willow, but he was promising nothing. He felt no obligation to keep Angel’s secrets. Time to change the subject again. “Is there a place around here where we might eat a decent meal? Perhaps have some tea?” Jet lag was beginning to kick in, as if he wasn’t beset by enough at present, and nourishment would not be amiss.

“Sure,” she said. This was good. No way was Giles going to grill her in a public place. His next words, however, made her heart sink. “When we come back, I should like to have a talk with Spike.”

Tbc…


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Three)

“How’s the sole?” Willow asked.

“Quite good,” Giles answered, clearly struggling not to talk with his mouth full. He was obviously enjoying his meal.

Willow fought to keep from grinning at his difficulty. She herself was having a corned beef sandwich and a green salad with bleu cheese dressing. Musso and Frank’s hadn’t been the least expensive choice, but the food was good and the salad dressing was extraordinary – all in all, she’d figured it was the right place to bring Giles. Especially since there were enough other customers seated nearby to keep the conversation away from the paranormal. “Have you even slept?”

Giles paused for a moment in his consumption of the infinitely-better-than-expected fish. Clearly this was an answer requiring more than two words. “Yes. I was able to sleep a bit on the plane and then I spent a few hours in a hotel near the airport.” He tucked back into his food. Pity there were no restaurants of this calibre in Sunnydale. He decided that this establishment was where he would go whenever he came back to Los Angeles to visit Willow. After all, it wasn’t as if he were going to leave her here at the mercy of Spike and with no one but Wesley for guidance ever again.

“That’s good.” Willow stayed silent after that, letting Giles eat his meal without further disturbance as she focused on her own.

A few minutes later, with their food mostly consumed and the decision about whether to order dessert all the distraction that remained, the booth next to theirs emptied; Willow felt her stomach sink in anticipation. She wasn’t wrong.

“I’m not trying to pass judgment, and I realize that after leaving the way I did and…well…after the things I said, I may have seemed to forfeit my right to advise you, but I must express my concerns. Willow, this relationship with Spike… Are you quite sure it’s a good idea for you to be involved with him?”

She had known this was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. She hated lying. Even more than that, she hated how much of it she’d been doing and how good she was getting at it. “He’s been there for me. He knows I’m not perfect and he doesn’t care.” Mixing a little truth in – wasn’t that the trick of the best liars? She’d know, wouldn’t she? “I know you don’t like him. Or trust him. But I do. He’s good for me. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. After Tara…I thought I’d never… But I do. And it’s good to love someone again and to be loved back – for who I am and not for who I’m supposed to be.” There were tears in her eyes now. Her fairytale was so false, so very false. But tears, thank heavens, were open to interpretation.

“We kept you on a rather high pedestal, didn’t we?”

For all the lies she was telling, she gave him one perfect truth. “I didn’t try to climb off. I thought I liked it up there. I did everything I could to stay. I was so scared of falling off. Maybe I should have jumped or something. Turns out I like it better down here. But I didn’t know that before. “

Giles reached across the table and took her hand. “Was it a hard fall?”

Her tongue wouldn’t work anymore, so she just nodded.

“And Spike…?”

“He helped me pick myself up.” She wasn’t helpless, after all, and she wasn’t going to relinquish her self-reliance for the sake of any lie.

Perhaps, Giles thought, it would be best not to say anything further on the subject. It was obvious that any questions as to Spike’s motives would be unwelcome and, frankly, inappropriate right now. And he had to concede that Spike did seem to have done some good, to have been there for Willow when all her true friends had somehow managed to fall woefully short. Later, perhaps a few weeks from now, when emotions were not still so raw and he and Willow were on better footing than they were today, he could broach the subject again. Hopefully, Spike would do nothing to hurt Willow in the meantime.

He saw the waiter approaching and glanced at the dessert menu before addressing Willow again. “I believe I’m in the mood for chocolate. Which do you recommend: the chocolate rum cake or the black forest cake?”

“When did they leave?” Angel asked, barely containing his ire. If only _he_ were still in charge of the agency. They’d have never taken the damn divorce case and he wouldn’t have been gone when Giles arrived. Where the hell had Spike been was what he wanted to know.

“I should say about an hour ago.” Wesley wasn’t much more pleased with things than Angel was, truth be known. Rupert Giles barging into _his_ domain and presuming to fix what not only wasn’t broken, but what was doing better than it had under his watch, well… that angered Wesley enormously. Not without what he believed to be sufficient cause to be appreciated by anyone, even by a disinterested party.

He did, however, feel that he could give Angel something about which to be optimistic. “Angel,” he said after a moment. “She’s not the girl she once was. You should have seen her. She stood up to him – defended herself and us. I feel that I am on safe ground when I say that she would never allow him to lure her back to Sunnydale. After all, she knows now…”

“The Hellmouth,” Angel interrupted, suddenly grateful for Wesley’s reasoning. There might always be a bit of a gulf between them, but maybe it was narrower now. “You’re right. Willow said it was dangerous for her there. The pull of the darkness…”

“Precisely. And she’s happy here, happier than she was in Sunnydale by far. She loves you. Anyone can see that.”

If only that were true, Angel thought, but he said nothing to Wesley. Let him think that he and Willow were in love, that Spike’s involvement wasn’t the only thing keeping Willow in his bed. Believing – could that make it so?

“You’ll see. She’ll be back soon and Giles will be on his way back to Buffy and he’ll be well out of all our lives from then on.” Wesley’s voice became almost a lilt by the end of the sentence. He could hardly deny that the prospect of never seeing the man again filled him with joy. He did, however, feel the need to make one realistic concession. “Well, he’ll probably call now and again, but…”

His voice trailed off. Reading Angel’s expression was difficult and he didn’t want to anger him anew, not when he seemed to have mollified him. Strangely, there was something comforting about bearing witness to Angel’s turbulent passion for Willow – it made him realize how much…well…_less_ his own feelings for Fred were. Yes, she was beautiful and charming and her relationship with Gunn stung badly, but… No, what he felt for her wasn’t love. Perhaps it could have _become_ love, but it had not got to that point yet. That realization gave him hope. The pain was still there, but at least he saw a surer ending to it and one that might well come sooner than he had feared.

Without another word, Wesley left the office. There was nothing more to say, and it was obvious that Angel would prefer to be alone. Angel proved him right by not even watching him as he left.

Lingering over the remains of a truly excellent slice of black forest cake and a cup of tea, Giles realized there was one more subject he wanted to broach to Willow before accompanying her back to Angel’s hotel…office…whatever the devil it was being used for now. “So, Angel’s son. That’s a rather surprising development.”

Oh goddess. Hadn’t Willow explained that back at the Hyperion? Why was Giles bringing it up again? Because talking about Angel was even harder than talking about Spike…and so much trickier. “Yeah. The whole ‘vampires can’t make babies’ thing always seemed so ironclad. But you know how lawyers are – they’re big with the loopholes.” She was trying for Buffy-style banter. Here’s hoping it worked.

“What is the child? Is he a vampire, or…” Giles stopped in mid-sentence, mindful that the waiter had returned.

“Would you care for anything else, sir?” asked the waiter.

“Yes, some more tea. Thank you. And another cup of coffee for the lady.” The waiter nodded and departed.

“He’s human,” Willow said, once the waiter was out of earshot. “And cute, actually. He sort of looks like Angel.”

For some reason, those words struck Giles oddly. There’d been something that girl – Fred, wasn’t it? – had said…“I wasn’t aware you found Angel attractive.”

Willow felt like a deer in the headlights – and didn’t thinking of deer cause a pang – but she fought to keep her emotions from her face as she lied all over again. “It’s not like I wanna jump him, sheesh. But he’s not ugly or anything.”

Her words relieved him, though he still couldn’t quite put his finger on the source of his unease. “Yes, well… of course. I suppose I’m still dealing with the news of…”

“That I’m with a guy again?”

“You were awfully vehement, after all.”

“I guess that was because, when I was with Tara, guys didn’t exist anymore.” She spoke softly, lost for a moment in the memory of falling in love with her girl. If she’d known then that someday she’d give her heart completely to someone who didn’t love her back, maybe she’d have tried harder to… But then again, what could she have done? She and Tara… They just weren’t forever, that was all. The love she’d felt was gone – well, not so much gone as changed into nostalgia and fondness and memory – and there was nothing she could do about it. It was her love for Spike that was alive inside her now, that owned her.

“Love is like that,” Giles said, and for a moment Willow was terrified that he could read her thoughts. A few seconds later she realized his answer applied just as well to what she’d said aloud and she fought back a sigh of relief.

“Yeah.”

The waiter was back with the tea and coffee and Willow and Giles finished their drinks in silence, each lost in thought – Willow’s thoughts chiefly being concern over what Giles was thinking.

The check was brought and – over her vehement objections – Giles paid for them both. And now it was back to the hotel…where Giles wanted to talk to Spike. Oh goody.

“So, the honeymoon’s over,” Buffy quipped as Xander and Anya unlocked the front door of the Magic Box and walked in. Sure, it had been closed for a few days after the wedding, but it was still research central and Warren was up to something.

Anya looked stricken. “That’s what you say to people when their marriage is in trouble. Which ours isn’t. Xander, tell her our marriage is not in trouble.”

“Relax, Anya. It was just a joke.” Buffy felt edgy and unfriendly. Hearing Giles’s voice yesterday… it reminded her of how much she missed him. It reminded her of how much she missed her mom, too. Was this what orphans felt like? Did they hate looking at happy people, feeling cheated somehow? Of course she was being selfish and silly – she was a grown-up, after all, and she had Dawn – but that didn’t change how she felt. “Giles called,” she said, deciding to make up for her inner brat by sharing the news. “He wanted me to congratulate you guys and to say he’s really sorry he wasn’t able to be here.”

“He did?” Xander couldn’t describe what he was feeling. On the one hand, he was sort of angry that Giles hadn’t called _him_, but on the other hand… Giles had remembered. That meant a lot.

Anya kept her eyes on Xander’s face, knowing this had to affect him and wanting to keep an eye on how. After all, she was Mrs. Xander Harris and she was supposed to pay attention to her husband’s feelings and things like that – to make sure and soothe him when he was upset. Of course, soothing usually included sex and Buffy was here, but… Well, there was always the back room, if needed. Not like she and Xander hadn’t done it back there before. They were allowed to have sex in places besides their apartment still now that they were married, right?

“Yeah, he did. He would have called you himself, but he figured you were on your honeymoon and all.”

The explanation helped. Xander suddenly felt less like the abandoned boy Giles’s sudden departure had left him and more like…well, more like someone Giles actually gave a damn about. “Thanks,” he said, not having any other words. Naturally, thinking about words made him think about… “Did you tell him about Willow?”

Guess Buffy shouldn’t be surprised that Xander asked that. “Sort of. I mean, I didn’t tell him about Rack or anything. I just said that she moved to Los Angeles to work with Angel.”

“Did you tell him that she’s not gay anymore?” Anya asked.

And of course, at that precise moment, Dawn walked in.

With Tara.

This wasn’t awkward at all.

“I… w-we’re here to help with the research,” Tara said, wanting so badly to say something cutting and spiteful or at least sarcastic to Anya. But she was never able to think of things like that. Willow had always been the one to come up with funny retorts and then whisper them to her; they’d giggle over them without saying them out loud.

“Willow’s bi - it’s not like she suddenly stopped liking girls. You’d think ‘Anya Orgasm’ would understand that,” Dawn muttered, just loud enough for Tara to hear. Strange how it didn’t make Tara giggle. But it was sweet of Dawn to try to cheer her up, so she gave the girl a soft smile. Someday, she’d find things funny again, find another woman who could light up her world. But right now, it hurt that Willow found it so easy to replace her when she knew she’d never find it easy to replace Willow.

Buffy wanted to apologize to Tara or something, but she didn’t know how she could without somehow making things worse, and after all, it wasn’t like _she_ had been the tactless one, so instead she just decided to pretend the whole conversation hadn’t been happening at all and get down to business.

“Warren and his geek crew are plotting something. A really big something. And we need to find out what it is. Care to help out on the computer?”

“Sure,” Tara said, fighting another pang as she booted up her laptop. “What are we looking for?”

Spike wandered downstairs, feeling a tension in the air he couldn’t quite place. Trust him to have missed something important the one day he decided to stay abed for awhile like a proper vampire.

“Peaches,” he greeted his sire as he ambled into the office.

Angel was angry at the boy and made no effort to be pleasant, cutting right to the chase. “Where the hell were you all morning? Giles was here.”

“What?” The Watcher was here? Why?

“You heard me. He was here. He’s out with Willow now, but they’ll be back soon and…”

“I’m guessing dear ol’ deadbeat Dad will want to have a talk with his little princess’s suitor.”

Oddly, that thought hadn’t occurred to Angel. Spike was right, though. While Wesley hadn’t stuck around for the whole conversation – and hadn’t eavesdropped either, much to Angel’s annoyance – Angel had to assume that Willow had told Giles what she had told her friends: She was involved with Spike.

They’d find out what was up soon enough. Angel’s hearing quickly picked up the sound of the front door opening and two sets of footsteps. A moment later, he and Spike were no longer the only ones in the office.

“Giles. Nice to see you,” Angel said, his voice colder than the grave he’d once filled.

“Angel.” Was it Willow’s imagination or was there a barely audible ‘us’ at the end of Angel’s name when Giles said it? “Spike.” She held her breath, wishing there would just be some frostily polite small talk followed by Giles realizing he’d better get on the road to Sunnydale, what with traffic and all.

Wishes, she should have remembered, were very bad things, even if you didn’t make them out loud. “Spike,” Giles said again. “Would you mind if we went somewhere and had a talk? Privately?”

  
Tbc...


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Four)

“Alone at last,” Spike quipped. Angel and Red had departed, ceding them the office. Giles may have wanted to go somewhere else, but frankly, Spike would rather be down here where he could raise his voice if need be and… Not that he was worried about the Watcher trying to stake him or anything.

He hated the damn chip.

“I’m not going to waste time with small talk. I think we both know what I wish to discuss.” Giles glared at the man in front of him, hoping he conveyed how very seriously he took this matter. “I want to know just what sort of game you think you’re playing with Willow.”

If this had been about anyone else – even if this had been back when he’d had that pathetic yen for the Slayer – Spike would have postured a bit, played it cool. But this was Willow, and the fact that the chit deserved to be loved and yet somehow he couldn’t love her laid on him a burden of guilt which made it impossible for him to pose and banter. The way Spike saw it, her honour and her worth were being questioned and he was duty-bound to stand up for her.

“Is that what you think? That a man would have to have some sort of nefarious motive to pay attention to the girl?” And didn’t he just enjoy the stricken look on Rupert’s face right now. That’d teach that disgrace to all things British. No, he wasn't going to think about the fact that his own actions at the beginning of all this marked him as more than a bit of a hypocrite. “Did it ever occur to you that I might actually fancy her? She’s quite a woman, you know – smart, caring, good to have on your side in a fight, and she doesn’t frighten the horses either. What about that doesn’t seem like the sort of girl I could go for on her own merits?”

Was that sincerity? Or was it merely the craft of a demon skilled in the art of deceit? Giles supposed that Spike did have a point – Willow, after all, was a fine girl – but he wasn’t convinced. Hadn’t Spike been as vehement in his proclamations of love for… “What about Buffy?”

The derisive snort he received in response took him aback, as did Spike’s next words. “You can’t be serious. I’ve got news for you, Rupert, old boy: We don’t all spend our lives trailing along after the Slayer. I admit that those short skirts had me for awhile, but it wasn’t as if I had a whole lot of other feminine company either. Especially when Willow was still signed to an exclusive contract with Glinda and Team Pink. But things have changed – she’s changed – I’ve changed. And I want a lot more for my unlife than what Buffy has to give. “

And if that didn’t convince the bastard, then Spike didn’t know what would. Because for all the lies and half-truths, one thing was told in the fullness of sincerity – he was well over any feelings he’d once had for that brain-dead bitch of a Chosen One.

Giles, however, was not going to simply drop the subject. Instead, he approached it from another angle, probing for weak spots. “Don’t you think it’s a bit hasty? For Willow, that is. She and Tara…”

Bloody hell. Not the stuttering witch again. “She and Tara were over before Red and I ever so much as held hands. In case your memory’s as dodgy as your concern for Willow” – now that was a direct hit – “Tara packed her bags and moved out of their love nest before you deserted Sunnydale.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what? Willow’s so-called pals already tried the ‘Tara was just trying to get Willow to stop using magic’ line.” There was no way Spike was putting the blame on Niblet, but he had a point to make. “You know what I say to that? Bollocks! Red stayed by Glinda’s side when she was nothing but a thundering loon talking gibberish and nearly getting us all killed. When you love someone, that’s what you do. You don’t cut and run just because things get too rough for your liking.”

Then he decided to play his trump card. “And hey, turns out you and Tara and the rest of ‘em were all wrong about Willow and magic, weren’t ya? Might interest ya to know that I was the one who noticed that she wasn’t having the shakes here, the one who first told her that maybe she wasn’t a junkie after all.” Okay, he was stretching things just a touch, but he wasn’t doing violence to the truth and Willow would back him up if need be.

Giles had no idea what to say to that, but it certainly explained a good deal – such as the fact that a girl as tender and romantic as Willow had always been in matters of the heart was in any sort of relationship with a rough, crude demon like Spike. Now that he thought about it, Willow’s involvement with Spike made less sense than ever – save for the fact that she’d been alone and misunderstood and Spike, opportunist that he was, had seen her need and filled it. It would certainly explain how a young woman who had recently come out as gay and was desperately in love with a fellow witch suddenly wound up with a male vampire for a…dear god how he hated to think of it…lover.

He began to wonder just how deep her so-called love for Spike actually ran. Because while Giles remained uncertain as to whether Spike was sincere, thanks to the latest pronouncements of that very demon, he now had ample reason to doubt Willow’s feelings as well. Oddly, that gave him hope. If this was nothing but loneliness and propinquity, then soon enough Willow would come to her senses. Yes, that would happen. And when it did, the chip – and her own powers – would allow her to safely end things. All that he and the rest of her friends needed to do was bide their time and say nothing. He knew well that opposition would fan the flames rather than quench them.

Of course, when it was over, Willow would still be unable to return to Sunnydale, but at least she’d be free to find a more suitable relationship – and perhaps a job with a less unsavory employer than Angel. One could but hope.

Silence – too much of it – and eyes through which the turning of wheels could be easily viewed. Spike wondered if the Watcher knew just how much could be learned by watching _him_. Like a bloody children’s primer he was – all laid out in simple, declarative sentences. It was obvious he now thought that Willow was just on the rebound or lonely or some such. The relief played out in his expression with all the subtlety of a panto and it told the whole ridiculous story. Maybe Spike should have told that last part differently – once more he was some convenience, if only in Giles’s mind. He almost wanted to tell the real truth, watch the old fool have an apoplectic fit, get a bit of his dignity back, but that would be staking himself to spite his dust, so he bit his tongue and waited for Giles to say something.

“Do you think he’s okay? You don’t think Giles staked him or anything?” Willow was almost shaking with nerves and she only just now realized that she’d already asked those questions at least ten times already. Poor Angel. He must be tired of answering them. Especially since she’d said almost nothing else. She was too unstrung for conversation.

Angel put his arms around her. “I’d know if he was gone.” His voice was calm, but he shared some of Willow’s concern, though not for the same reasons. “I think maybe it’s time we went back in there, though. I’m sure they’ve finished talking by now.” And if they hadn’t, it was too damn bad.

But first…

It surprised her a little when Angel kissed her though it probably shouldn’t have. She did her best to relax in his arms, focused on the feel of his lips against hers, the way his hands moved over her back. His kiss was always possessive, even when it was gentle, and it wasn’t something she wanted to get lost in; it was impossible not to.

Kissing Willow when it was just the two of them – it was almost dangerous. It made him wish that it could always be like this. It couldn’t, though, and he knew that. What he also knew was that if his soul wasn’t an issue, if Spike didn’t have to be a part of this, then he wouldn’t have Willow at all.

The pain of that was distracting, so much so that he almost didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps. Luckily, he caught them just in time and all but shoved Willow away from him.

The suddenness with which Angel let go and ended their kiss was startling and Willow was just about to ask what was wrong when Angel put his finger to his lips and then pointed towards the door. Oh. They were about to have company. The strangest thought occurred to her – this was suddenly like Buffy’s house, everyone congregating in the kitchen.

“Dad and I had a little talk and he’s given his blessing to me courting his sheltered little darling,” Spike snarked as he sauntered into the kitchen, Giles at his heels like a spaniel. Willow’s lips were slightly swollen – no mystery as to what they were interrupting. Hope the Watcher wasn’t observant.

Giles tried to smile as he looked at Willow, to appear to give the very approval Spike spoke of, but something bothered him. Not the lying – he felt an entirely comfortable discomfort about that – but…something. Willow’s manner was…well…_off_. Perhaps it wasn’t her manner, but it was…yes…_something_. And was it his own dislike of the man or was Angel’s casual air somehow affected? It seemed studied rather than natural, although what about that demon could be called natural?

“So does this mean that you’re okay? With me and Spike?” She was looking at him with the same eyes she’d turned on him back in high school. It was hard to remember that she wasn’t that girl anymore.

“I’m satisfied that he won’t hurt you.” That was truth itself.

“Good.” And again, something about Angel bothered Giles. This time it was his voice.

Of course, given everything he’d learned today – the way the world as he knew it had been thrown askew – perhaps he was going to see something ominous in every word and gesture, no matter how innocent or unimportant.

There were questions, so many questions, but it seemed that the day was suddenly overwhelming him. He needed to rest, to process the events and the knowledge. Then he could talk to Willow again.

Willow watched nervously as Giles appeared to be thinking.

“You guys,” Gunn interrupted as he burst into the kitchen, “Cordelia’s had a vision.”

“Lorne, is there any way you can talk to the Powers? Because this vision? The timing could not have been worse. I was right in the middle of my massage.” Cordelia looked deeply put-upon as she stood, surrounded by Lorne, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, Willow, Spike, Angel, and Giles.

“Massage?” Angel interrupted. “I thought you were getting a facial.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes in irritation. “You have to have a massage first. It’s all about relaxation. If you’re not relaxed, there’s no point in getting a facial. All the muscles in your body are connected and…”

“While I’m sure this is fascinating, I believe the vision is perhaps slightly more important. Would you care to share it with us?” Wesley was in full take-charge mode, eager to display his authority before Giles.

Okay, Wesley had a point. It was just… Cordelia really wished Giles wasn’t here for this. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Wasn’t he off being an unemployed loser in England? How could he even afford to fly back to California? Did he have a trust fund or something? Must be nice. Her mind went back to the old days of fancy cars and the latest clothes… Nope. Focus on the here and now. Besides, being a seer was way more important than being the most fashionable girl at Sunnydale High. And speaking of being a seer… “It’s Buffy. She’s in danger. Real danger, though it’s kind of hard to believe these guys are dangerous.”

Spike and Willow shared a look. Were those three buggers still at it? Would have thought they’d be driven back into their action figure-bedecked burrow forever by now. What the hell?

“Warren?” Willow asked.

“Yeah. And Jonathan and Andrew. How did you know?”

“They’ve been pulling stuff for awhile. I didn’t realize they were still around though.” No one had said a word to her about them at the wedding. Guess she shouldn’t be surprised by that, now that she thought about it.

“Yeah, well, they’re doing more than just pulling stuff now. If we don’t stop them, they’re going to kill Buffy.”

‘Kill Buffy.’ The words rang in Giles’s ears. He’d buried his Slayer once and now Cordelia Chase was telling him that it might happen again. He couldn’t bear it. “What do we need to do?”

Fixing Willow with the most understanding look she could muster, knowing what she was about to ask, Cordelia answered, “Willow needs to be there.”

Willow’s legs almost wouldn’t support her. Between the thought of Buffy dying again and the idea that she might have to use magic on the Hellmouth again… It was almost too much. Without thinking, she leaned on Angel. “I have to go back.” She’d thought she was about to ask a question, but she knew the truth before she finished speaking and the uncertainty was gone.

“Are you sure, pet?” Spike asked, hurrying to her side. He could see the way Giles was looking at Willow and Angel.

Before anyone else could say anything, Cordelia spoke again. “It has to be Willow. I don’t know what these guys are into, but whatever it is, it's dangerous and Willow's an important part of stopping the badness.”

Everyone was quiet. Fred, Gunn, Lorne…it seemed that they were waiting to see what the others were going to do. Finally, Giles spoke up. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“No. I’m just making it up. Hello? Visions? Powers that Be?” Cordelia wasn’t sure why, but she felt hostile to Giles. Back in the old days, she’d thought he was okay, but now..now he felt like a threat, like someone on the other side.

“I’ll be right there with you,” Spike said softly to Willow. He could smell the fear pouring off of her.

A thought occurred to Angel at Spike’s words and he quietly addressed Spike and Willow. “We need to talk.” He turned to the others and raised his voice. “Can the rest of you leave us alone for a minute?” He directed the words to the room but his eyes were on Giles.

Giles looked as if he were about to protest, but he was loath to create a scene and everyone else was walking out without a murmur of disagreement, so he did likewise.

Once again, Spike found himself in a conference in the office. And once again, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

“They’re all well away. So what’s on your mind, Peaches?”

“You need to stay here, Spike. I’ll go with Willow.” Both Willow and Spike opened their mouths to argue and Angel forestalled them with a gesture and an explanation. “Look, these guys are human. We both know that even with Willow’s magic, there will need to be someone there who can do battle with them and… I’m sorry, but you know you can’t help.” Spike was obviously hurt by his words and Angel was oddly moved to compassion. That chip…it was a barbarism, an abomination. He didn’t know how Spike handled it.

“But he could still go with us,” Willow interjected, her heart almost breaking for Spike. There was also concern for herself and for the carefully-constructed fable they’d gotten her friends to believe. “I mean, Spike and I are supposed to be… Spike and I. What are they going to think when…?”

It was obvious that Willow was worried, and not without legitimate cause, but Angel interrupted her and pressed his case. “There’s another reason he can’t go with us. I need someone to stay here and protect my son. There are still demons who would love to get their hands on the son of two vampires.” He stared into Spike’s eyes, knowing that the fact that he meant every word would mean the world to him, hoping that didn’t lead him to read too much into Angel’s respect. “There’s no one here who can fight like you.”

Spike hated himself for an easy mark, but damn it if his sire didn’t seem utterly sincere. He held Angel’s gaze. “You trust me to guard the brat?”

“I trust you to keep my son safe.” It was a fact. But when he saw the raw need in Spike’s eyes, he almost wished he hadn’t told him. It would just hurt the boy more, wouldn’t it?

Willow watched the exchange, wishing they would hug or something – that Angel would give Spike affection as well as trust – but it didn’t happen. Instead, there was just a space between that she could almost feel the lone of and the sound of Spike’s voice as he answered, “All right then.”

“Let’s call the others back in and tell them what we’ve decided.” Angel’s tone was firm and decisive and, since she didn’t have anything to say, Willow did as he said and went to get everyone. Would that she could be sure that the danger Buffy was in and the threat posed by pull of the Hellmouth was all that disturbed her right now.

Tbc…


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Five)

It had taken a bit of arguing, but Willow had talked Giles into letting her get behind the wheel for the drive back to Sunnydale. She still wished she’d been able to go as Angel’s passenger later, after darkness made it safe for him to travel, instead, but it would only do more to help them keep the true nature of their relationship a secret if she arrived in Sunnydale with Giles. Besides, Giles had jet lag and she was quite sure it was for the best that he wasn't going to be driving. She was pretty sure he'd been lucky to make it safely to the Hyperion.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have called her and told her we were coming?” Willow asked once she’d managed to deal with navigating the freeway on-ramp. Oh how she hated the 101.

“No,” Giles replied, though he had at one point thought they should do just that, “I think this is the best course of action. You bringing me back to Sunnydale as…well…a surprise will lessen Buffy’s concern. I hardly wish to see her panic. After all, we don’t actually know that she’s in real danger.” As far as Giles was concerned, Cordelia’s ‘visions’ were highly suspect, and after his initial panic at being told what she had seen, he was comforted mightily simply by considering the source. He remembered the girl well and she was hardly the sort one could rationally see being entrusted with anything more important than selecting the correct footwear to be worn at a party. A seer for the Powers That Be? Dear heavens, no.

It was easy to see Giles’s lack of respect for Cordelia and it raised Willow’s hackles. Okay, sure, a few months ago, she too would have chuckled at the idea of trusting in Cordelia Chase, but not anymore. She’d seen how much Cordelia had grown and now she had no doubt that Doyle had chosen wisely when he’d passed on his gift to her one-time nemesis. Also, she’d seen firsthand just how important those visions were and how very real and true. “Buffy’s in danger, Giles. I know you don’t think much of Cordelia, but if you respect me, then believe me when I tell you that she’s changed and that her visions are absolutely real.”

Giles was almost stunned by the quiet but firm rebuke. “Yes, of course, I was simply…”

“You don’t know her. Not really. I do. And her visions save lives. Like Buffy’s.”

Taking her eyes off the road for a moment, Willow fixed him with a look that was far more cowing than ever her Resolve Face had been. It gave him pause. Once again, he was forced to concede that she had changed – grown up – and she didn’t look up to him the way she once had. Of course, that was hardly surprising, was it? He had walked out of her life at the worst possible moment.

He changed the subject. “Where will Angel be staying?”

Willow took a breath. Luckily, needing to focus on a lane change gave her a moment to brace herself for Giles’s reaction to her answer. “Angel and I are gonna stay at my parents’ house. They’re in Europe, so…”

But the explosion didn’t come. Instead, all Giles said was, “I rather assumed you’d be staying with Buffy,” and he said it calmly at that.

Still, she felt that offering a good explanation for her reasoning was in order. “I just figured you would want to stay at Buffy’s and there’s plenty of room for me and Angel at my parents' house. They’re still out of town.” Goddess how she hoped she didn’t sound defensive.

Her hands were tight on the steering wheel and there was silence as she made her way through the maze of traffic. Giles hadn’t even tried to turn on the radio; neither had she.

Tension, she suddenly realized, was very bad for driving. The near miss with yet another lane change on this ridiculous freeway kind of pointed that out. So as soon as she thanked the Goddess for still being alive and for the rental car not being a hunk of exploding metal – and as soon as Giles stopped hyperventilating – she decided to do something about it.

“Look. I know you don’t like Angel. I get that and I guess I understand it. But I work with him every day. He’s my friend. You know, this is my life now – working with Angel. It’s not temporary. This is not something I’m doing to kill time before going back to Sunnydale. There _is_ no back to Sunnydale. If Buffy’s life wasn’t in danger… I’m just glad Angel will be there with me, because if anything happens with my magic…”

“You trust him,” Giles said. It wasn’t a question, thought it should have been. If he had done things differently, maybe it would have been.

“Yes, I do.” There was a sincerity there that hurt. Though she hadn’t said it, he knew that underneath her words was a rebuke – and the hard, cold reality that she did not trust _him_, not the way she trusted Angel, and definitely not the way she trusted Spike.

He was more convinced than ever of the wisdom of restraint and was exceedingly glad he’d decided to foreswear any further criticism of Spike. Of course, now he realized he needed to be more circumspect when it came to Angel as well.

It didn’t surprise him, frankly, that Willow was defending Angel or even that she trusted him. The circumstances of their association so clearly mirrored the vulnerable position she’d been in when Spike found her weaknesses, but what _did_ confuse him was Spike’s attitude towards Angel. He’d expected Spike to insist on accompanying them, or at least make a scene. Instead, he seemed to accept being left behind with an equanimity entirely out of character. Not that Giles was shocked by a lack of true concern for Willow’s safety, but Spike was always one to start a fight purely for the sake of being contrary, especially with those he disliked and Spike hated Angel, had tried to kill him innumerable times, and had even had him tortured.

Asking questions about such matters, however, was highly ill-advised. So instead he asked, “Are there any radio stations which play any sort of actual music in this area?”

Angel packed carefully, making sure not to include anything remotely evocative of his soulless self. He knew that, for the most part, he wasn't trusted anymore back in Sunnydale, if he ever really had been in the first place. No need to make things worse for himself. The whole point was for him to be accepted, at least temporarily, as part of the team.

Of course, it was Willow who was the real muscle on this job, and Angel had all sorts of mixed feelings about that. He was proud of her, impressed with her, scared for her, intimidated by her, and more in love with her than ever.

Unlike him, or Buffy, she’d walked into this world as a volunteer. Her powers were something she could have easily never known and never missed. She’d had any number of chances to walk away. Even now, she could have – with justification – said no to the battle. But in spite of the danger she was in from the Hellmouth, and despite her fear, she was going.

She wasn’t perfect – he knew that – but what she was seemed better than perfect. Maybe if he could make her see what he saw in her… Maybe then she’d love him the way he loved her.

And maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was why the Powers were sending them to Sunnydale. A foolish fancy, he knew, but he was going to hold onto it for as long as he could.

Putting one last shirt into his garment bag, he zipped it up and left it hanging on the back of the closet door.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and started thinking about what else awaited him. Saving Buffy – it wasn’t the usual mission and it was fast emerging from the fog of abstraction in which he’d allowed it to cloak itself. She was his past, but who knew how _she_ saw it. The fact that she’d bedded Spike wasn’t as comforting as it might have been. Spike, after all, was born to be used – by Drusilla, by Angelus, and now by Angel. Buffy was more than likely doing the same thing when she dropped her thong for the boy.

So – had she moved on or was she, like Ozymandias, staring out over a wasteland and seeing instead the brilliant world she’d once ruled?

His musings could have gone on until sundown, but a knock at the door interrupted him. The cadence was as specific as the scent he picked up easily. “Come in, Cordelia.”

No sooner had he spoken, then the door opened and her sharp eyes swept the room. “All packed and ready to take your brood act on the road, I see.”

Angel rolled his eyes. She was never going to change. Guess he didn’t want her to either. She was who she was.

It struck Cordelia that the eye-rolling and the attitude weren’t new. Funny how she hadn’t noticed them before. She suddenly felt a lot less sorry that she and Angel hadn’t actually become her and Angel. Even before Willow, he’d seen her honesty and her clever way of saying things as tactlessness that he put up with because she was beautiful.

Just like Xander.

And wouldn’t Angel like to know that he was just like that brain-dead, demon-whipped loser?

As much as she’d like to puncture his ego with that one, she remained aware that she was sending him off to face Buffy and death in Sunnydale and he needed to be at the top of his game…especially for dealing with Buffy.

“So, do you think you can keep from mooning over Willow while you’re back on Home, Sweet Hellmouth? Somehow I don’t think Buffy will be delighted by the fact that her geeky sidekick walked off with her one true love – oh, and before you say anything, ‘geeky sidekick’ is how _she_ sees Willow, not how I do. I know she could kick Buffy’s ass with a flick of her wrist, plus she at least wears _this_ year’s tacky, as opposed to last year’s tacky, like Little Miss Living Dead.”

Angel couldn’t help himself; Cordelia’s words brought to mind the picture of Buffy as a spandex-clad zombie and he had to chuckle. Only for a moment, but it did happen. Still, he had to make a token defense. “You haven’t seen Buffy in a long time, for all you know…”

“She’s suddenly blossomed into an emotionally healthy woman with a subscription to _Vogue_ instead of _Glamour_? Yeah, sure thing, Angel. And I’m having a wild affair with Wesley and that weird guy at the car wash.”

The fact that Cordelia had reached so far afield for the second partner in her hypothetical threesome struck Angel oddly, but he was quickly yanked back off that tangent when she spoke again.

“I think you’re also missing my point, which is that you really need to work on not drooling whenever you’re within ten feet of Willow. Yes, Buffy’s self-absorbed and clueless, but you’re _really_ obvious and it’s not like Buffy’s the only one you have to fool anyway.”

She was right, and Angel knew it. The last thing they needed was the donnybrook that would result from the true dynamics of things here being revealed at the wrong time…which was probably _any_ time. “I’ll be careful,” he said.

Cordelia was sort of shocked by the seriousness of his reply. Was that respect she had just heard? Good. Now all he had to do was make a habit of it. Sure, he was cool about the visions, but there was more to her than being a seer and having great hair. Speaking of which… “You know, you still owe me the massage and the facial and the haircut and all, right?”

He chuckled resignedly as she added even more to the spa services they’d agreed upon, his mood lightened by the fact that he could feel the approach of sunset. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out $500. “Keep the change,” he said.

“Thanks,” she responded. “Don’t forget what I said about keeping the drooling under control.” She headed for the door, but then she turned back. “Be careful, okay? And watch out for Willow. This one’s pretty bad.”

“I will.”

And then she was gone.

Angel headed for the nursery to say goodbye to his son.

“I’ll miss you,” he said quietly as he held the boy for a few moments. Connor smiled at him and his heart melted. He missed his son already. But it was time to leave.

Going and getting his bags, he headed downstairs to his car. At least he’d be seeing Willow soon.

Giles gazed out the window of the car at Buffy’s house. Now that he was here…well…let’s admit it – he was rather terrified. How does one walk back into a life they’d once thrown aside?

“We might as well go in,” Willow said after a really long moment. She was kinda dreading this – what she now thought of as ‘the Hellmouth itch’ was already crawling along her skin. “At least I’m bringing _you_ along with the ‘hey, Cordelia saw a vision of you getting killed by a bunch of creepy geeks’ news.” She reached over and took Giles’s hand. “She misses you, you know. She’ll be really glad you’re back.”

“Yes, much as you were,” Giles said, suddenly cynical. The wounded look on Willow’s face told him instantly what that sounded like. He’d been grossly unfair. “I’m sorry. I… It was very different, our parting. I do understand why you feel…felt…as you did.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Giles, I really am.” He heard reservations underneath her words, but he ignored them, reminding himself that he was hardly the injured party in their friendship. “Are you ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.” Was his voice actually shaking? Dear lord.

Willow got out of the car at the same time Giles did, watching as he got his bags out of the trunk. She wanted to offer to help him carry them, but he shot her a look and so she didn’t. Men.

Within a minute, they were at the door. Willow thought of asking Giles to do something corny like hide and then jump out after Buffy had opened the door, but ultimately this was a serious situation and the less keyed-up everyone got, the better. So they stood side by side and Giles rang the bell.

“Dawn, will you get that?” Buffy called downstairs as she heard the ring at the door. Who the heck could it be? No door-to-door salesmen worked after two in the afternoon in Sunnydale. They’d learned the hard way.

“Dawn?” Buffy called again, wondering if Dawn was even paying attention.

Then she heard a loud shriek. “Oh my God! Buffy! Get down here! Now!”

Grabbing the crossbow that was on top of the hamper, she raced downstairs. Were demons just knocking on her door now?

But as she got to the bottom of the stairs, she saw… It wasn’t a demon after all. “Giles,” she croaked out, her voice failing her. “Willow. I…” And then she dropped the crossbow as her voice gave out completely, which was just as well, because she was hugging Giles and he was hugging her and breathing was kind of an issue but… Everything felt good again. Giles was here. Willow was here. For the first time in so long, everything felt good.

“Never expected to have an uncle. Especially not a bloody human baby like you,” Spike said softly to the small figure sleeping in the crib. He’d never been alone with the brat before. It was a strange experience.

_”I trust you to keep my son safe.”_

And love’s bitch howled again, hearing what he wanted to hear in those words even as he knew that they sounded nothing like ‘I love you.’ They were as close as he was going to get, weren’t they?

But for all that Angel couldn’t love Spike, he loved Connor, and Spike wasn’t sure he understood. All this time as a demon…he’d forgotten about the human sort of parental feelings. For him it was all tied up with sex and blood and there was no feeling that way about some tiny little creature who couldn’t even speak. Maybe if he could father a brat of his own… Yeah, maybe that would make it all clear, take him back to that purity drained out of him in a London alley.

But it wasn’t going to happen. So all he could do was wonder and stare and somehow find himself loving Angel all the more for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.

The baby stirred slightly but his eyes stayed closed, and Spike knew he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Angel trusts you,” said a soft voice from behind him. Lorne.

“Yeah, well, he knows it was Dru who had a taste for snacks. Me, I never wanted to spoil my dinner with one of these.” He was letting Lorne know that he wasn’t in the mood for being ‘handled.’

It worked. All he got was one of those sad, ‘understanding’ looks and a clear path out the door. Which he took. He wasn’t in the mood for pity.

“Warren’s going to kill me?” Buffy said, hollow-voiced, as she sat next to Giles on the sofa.

“No, no!” Willow hastened to reassure her. “He’s just going to try. That’s why we’re here. To stop him. That’s the whole reason Cordelia gets visions, after all – so that we can stop terrible things from happening.”

Buffy was numb – just numb. To have been ripped out of…wherever she’d been…just to die again? It was more than her mind could handle.

“Willow, you can do it, right?” Dawn asked, scared that she was going to lose her sister again. She loved Buffy; she loved Buffy so much. “I mean, you’re the big-time witch and all now and...”

“I can do it, Dawnie,” she said, pulling the girl into a hug. “And hey, it won’t just be me helping out either.”

“That’s right,” Buffy said. “We’ve got Giles now, too.” She turned and gazed into the eyes of the only real father she’d ever had. If she was gonna die again, at least she was seeing him one last time. She was going to be brave and strong and do him proud. “And hey, we have Xander and Anya and Tara.”

“And me,” Dawn interrupted. Maybe she didn’t have any nifty superpowers, but she was darn good with an axe…well, kind of.

“There’s someone else coming, too,” Willow said, her voice shaking with nerves. Now she was about to reveal the rest of the news. “Angel will be here in a little while. He’s going to help us.”

“Angel?” Dawn asked, feeling as if what was kind of a swell party – if it wasn’t for the imminent danger to her sister – was being ruined. What did they need the big creep for?

If she hadn’t been sitting down already, Buffy might just have fallen down. Angel was coming back. “Wow, guess I rate the big guns, huh?”

“Of course you do,” Willow said, even as she hoped Buffy wasn’t fantasizing about a romantic reunion with her first love.

Shaking her head to clear all the complicated Angel-thoughts, Buffy soon found herself with a head full of new worries. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Will? I mean, magic and the Hellmouth are not necessarily…”

“We’ll all be here for her,” Giles offered, hoping Willow believed he wouldn’t let her down this time.

“Thanks,” Willow offered.

“You and Buffy are _both_ gonna be okay.” Dawn hoped that fate or whatever was in charge was listening. What good was being an ancient Key if you couldn’t order the universe around a little?

“Yes, we are,” Willow said.

“Yes, of course,” Giles agreed.

And then the doorbell rang.

Tbc...


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Six)

“Angel,” Buffy breathed as she opened the door. “Umm…come in.” God she hoped she sounded casual. It was still hard to see him. It brought back memories of days…well, even the worst of them seemed better than today.

“Thanks,” Angel answered as he walked through the front door and into Buffy’s living room. There was tension thick in the room already. He felt memories of Dawn click into place. They weren’t real, he knew, but they signaled him to be irritated by her presence. The way he recalled it, he’d never been able to stand her and vice versa. Oh well. He should be nice to her, try to get along. “Hey, kiddo,” he greeted her. No one could accuse him of not making an effort.

Dawn ground her teeth. She _hated_ the way Captain Hair Gel called her ‘kiddo’. “Where’s Spike?” she asked, wondering why he wasn’t there, too, although, come to think of it, Willow hadn’t actually said he was coming.

“He stayed in L.A. to help with the agency.” Angel’s answer was true, such as it was, but for some reason he itched to say more. Probably because he just knew that Giles was waiting to tell it himself, to make it sound like some dark, dirty secret Angel was keeping, and it wasn’t. Maybe it was time to stop acting like it was. Still, now wasn’t the time to drop a bombshell. But soon – yes, very soon. Because if there was anything in his whole life of which Angel wasn’t the least bit ashamed, it was his son.

“Why didn’t you stay and send him here instead? I mean, he’s Willow’s boyfriend. I’m sure she’d rather have him here than you. No offense.” Take that, you broody jerk. Dawn fought the urge to smile as she saw the way he was glowering and furrowing his brow.

Angel now loathed Dawn without any help from the false memories. He was just about to defend his presence here when Buffy spoke up. “Spike wouldn’t be much help against these guys, not with the chip.”

Buffy’s words made Willow wince. Yes, they were true, but she hated hearing Spike spoken of as if he were helpless or useless. If she could only find a spell… But she’d been looking and so far – nothing. The Powers That Be seemed content for him to remain as he was. “He’s a great fighter and they really need him in L.A. anyway. If there’s a demon attack or something…”

“Spike’s an important part of the team,” Angel agreed, basking in the small smile Willow gave him as thanks for praising the man she loved. And wasn’t that a mixed blessing.

Giles’s eyes narrowed as he watched the way Angel was looking at Willow – there was something nagging at him. Damn it. What had that young woman with the heavy accent – Fred, wasn’t it? – said today in the office? If he could only remember…

Willow came up with what she hoped was a good idea. “We should probably call everybody, get them here for a strategy meeting. And it would really help if we could figure out what exactly Warren and Andrew and Jonathan are up to.”

“Didn’t Cordelia’s vision tell you?” Dawn asked.

Giles had to commend the girl on an excellent question. Sadly, its answer was a depressing one. “I’m afraid her vision was longer on drama than detail.” He was only just able to keep utter contempt out of his voice.

“She sees what the Powers show her. Sometimes we’re not supposed to know everything right away.” Angel spoke sharply, almost glaring at Giles. If there was anything for which Cordelia deserved respect, it was what she did as a seer. Before Willow had healed her, she’d suffered agony and near death from the visions and they had changed her life – not always for the better. Giles could take his attitude and go to hell as far as Angel was concerned. He’d been there – Giles would hate it.

Willow longed to speak up for Cordy as well, but the last thing she wanted to do was add to the friction and create even more of a divide than there already was. How much good could they do if she and Angel were seen as outsiders? Instead she just went and picked up the phone, thankful she had a good memory for numbers.

Xander was just about to bite into a slice of pizza when the phone rang. Anya made no move to even look away from the television so, with a sigh, Xander got up and went to answer it. Whoever it was, they were in big trouble if his pizza got cold. “Hello?”

“Xander? Hi, it’s me.”

“Will?” Xander didn’t give a damn about his pizza anymore.

“Is that Willow?” Anya interrupted, suddenly less interested in the badly-depicted disembowelment she’d been watching with a critical eye.

“Yes,” Xander called back, afterwards wishing he’d remembered to put his hand over the receiver. “Sorry,” he said to Willow in a much softer voice. “We’re both really glad you called. How’s Los Angeles?”

“Umm…,” she might as well get to the point, “it’s great, but I’m in Sunnydale now. At Buffy’s house. And we kind of need you and Anya to come over right away.”

As happy as Xander was about seeing Willow again, and so soon after the wedding, he knew one thing – whatever the reason was, it was probably something bad, and that wasn’t good. “Sure thing,” he answered, looking at Anya, “We’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone; Anya was fixing him with a look of confusion and annoyance. “Willow needs us to meet her at Buffy’s. Now.”

Divorce cases. What the devil had possessed Wesley that he’d agreed to take this one? It was turning out to be a massive headache and one could scarcely tell on which side either of the players fell. The shapeshifter was a philandering lothario with questionable employment, but his wife – the party who had hired them – seemed to be of rather low character herself.

“The bint was all over me,” Spike groused. “Damn near tore my duster. Next time you want somebody to go talk to that slag, it better not be me.” He’d only agreed to do this at all because even though it had only been a few hours he already missed Angel sorely. Willow, too, if he was honest.

“Yes, well, I appreciate your help. I have a feeling we’ll simply be closing this case out.” Which was a pity, seeing that there was a small boy embroiled in the fiasco that was his parents’ marriage, but what else could they do? One could hardly be expected to serve the interests of someone so thoroughly objectionable as that woman.

“Don’t expect the bitch to pay us. I think she was hoping I’d take the bill out in trade. Fat chance o’ that. Even if I was hard up for it, I’d pass that hatchet-faced piece right by.” He was about to suggest that Wesley have a go at her, but he thought better of it. With Willow and Angel away, fighting with the others seemed a bad idea. Best to just go along and get along for now. Besides, compared to Giles… Yeah, Wesley was the Watcher he preferred. Maybe if the man got a decent shag, he’d be even less of a twit and there’d be no need to rag him at all. Pity there didn’t seem to be any chance of that for him now, what with Fred choosing Gunn. Spike wouldn’t wish Cordelia on his worst enemy – well, Giles could shag the bint – and he sure as hell hoped Wesley never got that desperate.

“I can’t fault your taste. She is a rather shocking creature, isn’t she?” He wasn’t sure why, but Wesley felt an odd need for some sort of camaraderie right now, even if it was with a demon.

“Shocking? The face on that one would gag a Chaos demon. Seems like if life was fair, _she’d_ be the shapeshifter.”

Wesley couldn’t help but chuckle at Spike’s raillery and it felt…pleasant, actually. He was lonely – he could at least admit that to himself. “Thank you,” he said. “I mean it. I realize that you get paid but… Your help is very much appreciated.”

At precisely this moment, Spike must have fallen through a dimensional portal, because this dimension’s Wesley could not possibly be…friendly? To _him_? Of course, this was Los Angeles, not Sunnydale. People liked him here. It was taking some getting used to, though.

Might be time to try and like more of them back. “What do you say we go get a drink or something? Gotta be a decent pub around here, right?”

Wesley was stunned, frankly. But for all that, the invitation was shockingly welcome, and he decided to accept. “I know of a place. The ale is…well…acceptable, which is about as good as it gets here, I’m afraid and…”

Spike interrupted, even though he had to agree – American ale was pathetic. “Right. Let’s head off then.” You never know. With a pint or two in him, Wesley might not be half bad company. Anything was better than staying in his room and contemplating his lonely bed. “I’ll buy the first round.”

Awkward meetings seemed to be a sort of recurring theme. This one was no exception – except that it was even more awkward than the others had been. Maybe that was because Tara was here and Dawn had obviously neglected to tell her that Willow and Angel were back. “She might not have come,” Dawn had hissed in Willow’s ear, but Willow wasn’t sure she bought that reason.

Guess the personal stuff wasn’t all that important. What mattered was that they all agreed about the importance of working together to protect Buffy from whatever it was those three losers were up to. Still, it would be nice if she didn’t feel the impulse to turn up the thermostat.

“So this was one of Cordy’s visions, huh?” Xander said at last. He was still freaked out by the fact that she was a seer. Back in high school, the only thing she could foretell was the latest trends in fashion. But Willow seemed really confident that this was on the level so…okay, Buffy was in danger. That meant research. Why hadn’t he brought doughnuts? Or maybe that pizza which was even now taunting him from the coffee table in his apartment where it was growing cold and stale? Still, they had Giles and that was better than all the doughnuts in the world.

“Yeah. We came just as soon as she told us about it.”

“We did, indeed,” Giles agreed.

Anya pretended to pay attention to what Willow and the others were saying, but she was only half-listening. Marriage was a partnership, so she had the brilliant idea to let Xander worry about all this vision stuff while she paid attention to other very important things. Like being very, very glad that Giles had come home. But also wondering why Angel was here instead of Spike. Willow was under a lot of stress. Obviously, she would need sex, and of course that meant that she needed Spike since she wasn’t gay anymore and she’d pretty much burned her bridges with Tara anyway. So again, why was Angel here?

“How come you’re here instead of Spike?” she blurted out, pretty sure she’d interrupted someone but not caring very much.

Was everyone going to ask that question? “Spike still has the chip,” Angel nearly snapped. He’d already been through this with Dawn. Right now, he wanted more than anything to be able to hold Willow’s hand, to feel her patience and her compassion flow into him. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. He felt worse than a stranger here and the fact that he had to hide his relationship with the woman he loved made it even worse. “We needed somebody here who could fight. They are human, right?”

Willow found her heart going out to Angel. Being treated like an outsider… It was wrong. As much as she herself missed Spike, Angel had feelings and they were being hurt – and hurt by people who should know better. Angel had been part of the gang once upon a time. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, hoping that made him feel better.

Tara sat quietly in the corner next to Dawn, eyes open behind her hair. She had barely said a single word since she’d gotten here. Part of her wanted to be angry at Dawn for not warning her, but she guessed it had been the right thing to do. It wasn’t like she would have rushed over if she’d known Willow and Angel were here…especially Angel. She didn’t like Angel or trust him. A soul wasn’t everything. Bad people had souls and that didn’t stop them from doing terrible things.

Seeing Willow, however, that was hard, though it probably would have been worse if Spike were here. Unlike Anya and Dawn, Tara wasn’t sorry at all that Spike had stayed behind. She remembered how she and Willow had been when they were first in love and she couldn’t have stood watching Willow and Spike hold hands, to see their eyes full of love for each other. What did Giles think of it all? She couldn’t help wondering about that…and wondering what might have happened if Giles hadn’t left. If he’d been here, would Willow have been sent away? But would she be worse off for having stayed?

That last thought made her speak up. “I’ll h-handle the magic. I know how dangerous it is for you.” The grateful look from Willow pierced Tara’s heart.

“Thank you.” What else could Willow say? After what she’d done to Tara… But her girl had always been like that – too good for this world, as pure a soul as had ever been born. She’d never understand how she could have stopped loving Tara. But getting her mind back onto the mission, she added, “I was sent here for what I can do, though, and that might mean magic.”

Xander chimed in. “Are you sure? I mean, last time you were here, you said…”

“I know. And I can feel it and it’s not good. But this is Buffy,” she gave a fond look to her friend. “The coven said I was given this gift to help humanity and hey, I think helping Buffy qualifies, don’t you? It’s what I’m meant to do.”

“Thanks, Will.” Buffy got up and pulled Willow into a hug. “I love you.” Her voice as she spoke those last three words was soft but fierce. Today had been difficult, but there were good things and knowing the risks Willow was willing to take for her was one of them. Though rational thought was making her wonder just how serious the threat really was. Because the geek trio? So not as scary as Glory or even the Master. And Cordelia? No offense to these ‘Powers That Be’, but if she was their idea of a seer… Maybe Buffy had been panicking for nothing. Still, anything that brought Willow and Giles to town was good…

What she didn’t want to think about was Angel… Angel, who would be sleeping under the same roof and…

“Angel and I had better head over to my house and get our stuff stowed away,” Willow said, her voice breaking through Buffy’s thoughts. “We also have to make a stop at Willie’s for…you know…”

  
“Aren’t you guys staying here? I thought…”

“We figured it would be kinda crowded. So Angel and I are gonna stay at my parents’ house and Giles can stay here in my old room and you guys can catch up and stuff.” Seeing the sadness in Tara’s eyes was getting to be too much. Willow was almost as eager to get away as Angel was.

Even though she knew Buffy was probably all depressed about it, Dawn was glad that Angel wasn’t going to be here – even if she had considered the fun to be had by spiking his blood with hot sauce or…oooh! Garlic! He’d have probably smelled it and not drunk it, though – darn vamp senses.

“Are you sure?” Buffy asked, not sure if she was glad or sorry that Angel wouldn’t be here. She remembered nights spent holding each other, dangerous kisses… But those days were long ago. They might almost have happened to another girl. Why, then, did he still make her stomach do those flip-floppy things? Did they even mean what they used to mean?

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll be back bright and early and ready to research and stuff. Right now, though, I think everybody needs rest. Giles probably still has jet lag.”

“Indeed.” Giles could hardly argue with Willow on that point, seeing as how he could barely keep his eyes open. He was still bothered, as well, by that something at the back of his mind which refused to reveal itself. Oh how he hoped that a few hours rest would clear the fog from his brain and allow him to solve the mystery. “I think it would behoove us all to get a good night’s sleep. We’ve had quite a lot of excitement today, but Cordelia’s vision seemed to indicate that there’s still enough time for us to be able to rest before we…”

“Figure out how to send Warren and Andrew and Jonathan back to the Star Trek conventions where they belong?” Dawn said, wishing she hadn’t when she saw the stricken look on Xander’s face. She hastily backpedaled. “Not that Star Trek conventions aren’t cool. Just the ones _they_ would be allowed in would really suck.” Not helping. Darn. She hated hurting Xander. Why couldn’t she have said goth clubs? Because then Angel would be the one who felt like a dork. Xander and Dawn still laughed about the time he and Willow went with Angel to that stupid poseur club and all the wannabes there dressed just like Angel.

“Sleep would be good,” Xander agreed, his mind drifting to the boxes of comics and action figures in the spare bedroom. Hey, they were an investment.

Tara said nothing. She didn’t get up either, though she wasn’t sure why. She just sat and watched as Willow hugged everyone and she and Angel said their goodbyes. And then when Buffy grabbed Giles’s suitcases and led him upstairs, she still didn’t get up.

She must have known what was coming. No sooner were she and Dawn and Xander and Anya left alone when there was a stage whisper from Anya…along with a very unnecessary and disturbing hand gesture. “Raise your hand if you think Angel has a thing for Willow.”

Tbc…


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Seven)

  
Dawn watched as everyone, including Tara, raised their hands in response to Anya’s remark. She did too, of course. It wasn’t like it wasn’t totally obvious that Angel had the hots for Willow. Everybody but Buffy – and Willow – could see it. Oh, and probably Giles, but he was old and he hardly noticed anything. Not that Dawn was bitter about him leaving them all when everything was falling apart. Okay, maybe she was, but so what? She had a right. Giles was even worse than their dad. At least he had never really known her and he’d always neglected Buffy. No one expected anything from him. But Giles?

Sorry; unlike Buffy, Dawn wasn’t jumping on the ‘Yay, Giles is back’ train. Okay, maybe she had jumped on when he had walked through the door, but she had been in shock and had forgotten what he’d done to them. She was jumping right off the train now.

This wasn’t the time to think about that, though. Now was all about Willow and icky Angel. Besides, there was always that hot sauce and Giles’s tea…not like _he_ had super vamp senses.

Anya’s own hand was raised the moment she finished making her point about Angel and Willow with a helpful, illustrative gesture; after all, she’d said for everyone to raise their hands and that included her. She just hoped Buffy didn’t come right back down. She wanted to know what they all thought about this. “We should go into the kitchen.” When no one moved right away, she sighed and added, “So Buffy doesn’t hear us talking about Angel having a thing for someone who isn’t her.”

They were going to talk about Willow and… Okay, maybe Tara should just leave right now. But she didn’t. Instead, she followed everyone as they let Anya lead them into the kitchen.

“I hope the room isn’t, you know, too girly for you. Not that you’ll be living here, but still, if flowered wallpaper is a problem…”

“It will be quite fine,” Giles interrupted, touched by Buffy’s solicitude and shaken by her obvious anxiety. “I won’t be leaving again. No matter what sort of wallpaper I must endure.” The last remark was meant for levity, but Buffy’s smile was tentative and didn’t reach her eyes. Obviously, she hadn’t believed him when he said he wasn’t leaving again. “I mean it, you know. I intend to stay. I should never have left in the first place.”

He’d had an eloquent speech prepared, one he’d intended to give tomorrow after he’d had some rest and could deliver it properly, but he’d done himself out of that now. Buffy’s eyes were full of tears and it seemed…well, perhaps simple words were best, he thought, as his Slayer – his _daughter_ – pulled him into a sudden embrace.

“Good,” she said as she held him close, though it could have been so many other words. But she wasn’t sure if the ones she meant would scare him, so ‘good’ it was even if in her head it was ‘I love you.’

Buffy let go after a minute, not sure if she should just leave and let Giles get some rest or stay and they could talk some more. “I missed you,” she said, realizing as she said it that it pretty much made the decision for her.

She was right, of course, because Giles immediately sat on the bed and patted the space beside him – the universal sign for ‘sit down.’

“I missed you, too. I… I made a mistake. I hope you can forgive me for that.” She was about to say something, but he held up his hand to stop her. There was more he needed to say. “I was wrong and I don’t want you to say otherwise. I… I thought I was doing the right thing. I told myself that you needed to be forced to take charge of your own life, to make your own way. It seemed so honourable then, but now… Now I think my reasons, my true reasons, were more about fear.”

“Fear?” Buffy didn’t know what he meant.

“I was…” He wanted to say ‘failing.’ He wanted to say that he had run because he was too cowardly to stay and fix the mess for which he was at least partly to blame. He couldn’t. Someday…perhaps…he could face Buffy with clear eyes and tell her the whole truth. But now… Blame fatigue if you like, but whatever the truth was, he just…couldn’t. That was that. “It’s difficult to explain.” And there he left it.

“I understand,” Buffy said as she patted his hand. She didn’t, but she figured he knew that anyway. And he was tired – too tired for her to be asking him annoying questions, that was for sure. She decided to change the subject, still not ready to leave Giles alone. “So, this vision thing…”

“Yes, well, as much as I do think we should err on the side of caution, I must say that the source being what it is…”

“You mean it’s Cordelia and she thought a tragedy was a bloodstain on one of her overpriced skirts? I’m kind of leaning towards ‘she lacks credibility’ too. Of course, that could be wishful thinking on my part.” Buffy didn’t say the words ‘because I don’t want to die again’ out loud, but she was pretty sure they both knew what she was thinking.

“Well, no matter what, this crisis will be averted. With all of us united, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

Buffy hadn’t intended to start another heavy topic, but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Did Angel ask…I mean, did he say why he wanted to come along?”

Giles felt his heart wrench at the look in Buffy’s eyes. As much as he disliked Angel, for Buffy’s sake, he wished he could tell her that her first love was still pining for her. It wasn’t true and he wasn’t going to lie. But he _was_ going to let her down gently and - though a part of him wanted to desperately and he felt she did deserve to know – he was not going to tell her about Angel’s son. Not tonight at any rate. “He felt that another fighter was needed, one who knew the lay of the land here and…”

Buffy said nothing, but she looked stricken and Giles hated himself. Still, he kept on. “His life is…well, it’s changed now, Buffy. He has his business, his associates…”

“I know,” she said softly. “And it’s not like I expected him to be spending every minute wishing we could still be together…” But the truth was that, deep down inside, she had hoped for that very cruelty. She was ashamed of herself. How could you want that for someone you loved?

Giles put his arm around her and she lay her head on his shoulder. For all that her heart hurt, it felt…better…to have it hurt with him here.

  
Once they had gotten into the kitchen, it seemed like no one knew what to say. Even Anya was uncharacteristically silent, despite the fact this whole secret meeting was her idea. So, even though she didn’t even want to be here in the first place, it was Tara who decided to say something first. “I’m worried. I don’t think Willow… I mean, she always sees the good in people and…”

“And she doesn’t have a clue that Deadboy is bad news, soul or not? I’m right there with you.” Xander hated Angel as much as ever and wasn’t in any kind of denial about it. “And may I just add that I’ve been saying that since the tenth grade? If we – or rather, Buffy – had staked him a long time ago, he wouldn’t be making creepy stalker eyes at my best friend.”

Tara couldn’t remember a time when she would have agreed with a thought like that, and she didn’t now but…she was close. Too close. And she didn’t like that at all. “D-do you think Spike knows?”

Before today, Dawn would have answered that with a resounding ‘yes’, but now… If he knew, why did he stay in Los Angeles? Okay, it wasn’t like Angel could actually _do_ anything – hello, curse – but still… Nevertheless, Dawn still replied, “Sure he does.” Then she decided to remind everyone that, “Hey, as sleazy and gross as it is for Angel to be all googly-eyed and everything, there _is_ the whole curse thing. I mean, even if _he_ was willing to risk it, no way that Willow would. And besides – she has Spike! Spike is worth like ten thousand…” And could she have remembered to think before she spoke? Because Tara looked like she’d been punched.

Hearing those words – ‘she has Spike’ – tore right into Tara’s heart. But she held her head up, drawing on a strength she never knew she had, and said, “Dawn’s right. Willow would never risk Angel’s soul.”

Anya could hardly believe what she was hearing. Of course Willow wasn’t going to sleep with Angel. That was not the point at all. Did no one in this room but her have a working brain? “Excuse me, but does anyone beside me see the real danger here?”

Well, at least that shut everyone up. They all turned to Anya expectantly as she asked the really pertinent question. “What’s going to happen when Buffy finds out?”

“Come in,” Willow said as she walked through the front door of the house. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever given Angel an invitation again after he’d gotten his soul back. Better safe than sorry. “I’ll just go put your blood in the fridge.”

Angel blinked against the light as she flipped the switch, the sudden brightness catching him by surprise. It had been a long time since he’d been in this house and he’d never seen the living room. It was strange – knowing Willow the way he did now – to think of her in this conservative, cookie-cutter environment. It looked like a page from a magazine – not Architectural Digest, but one of those magazines he idly flipped through sometimes, thinking about how humans lived…Good Housekeeping, wasn’t that what one was called?

Funny how hard it was sometimes to remember that Willow was one of _them_.

He followed the sound of Willow humming to herself and made his way to the kitchen. “Hey.”

Willow jumped and whirled around. “Angel! You scared me!” All those years ago when Xander had said Angel should wear a bell? That didn’t seem like such a silly idea.

“Sorry.”

“I guess I’m just extra jumpy, you know? I need to get more of a handle on my magic before I’ll be comfortable here again.” She turned back to the refrigerator, grateful there were some cans of soda there. Between that and the crackers she’d found, at least she could stave off her hunger pangs until she got the chance to hit the market tomorrow. She’d eaten everything else in the house when she and Spike had been here for the wedding.

“I think you’re an amazing woman.” At first it felt like it came out of nowhere, and then it made her uncomfortable. Angel had a way of being so intense and serious; it was unsettling sometimes.

“Buffy’s my friend,” she replied, as if it explained everything, which it did. She was grateful when silence told her he wasn’t going to pursue this line of conversation.

All his life, and unlife, Angel had been involved with women who adored compliments – hell, they expected, even _demanded_ them. Never before had he loved someone so uncomfortable with the smallest praise. It was new terrain and he couldn’t help stumbling. But he’d keep trying and sooner or later she’d accept his love and admiration.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” he asked, staring at the box of crackers she was holding.

“It’s kind of all there is,” she said. “But it’s okay. Tomorrow morning I’ll go to the store and stock up.” She grabbed her soda and made to leave the kitchen, turning off the light before leading Angel back to the living room.

They sat down and Willow ate a few crackers and took a gulp of soda. She was tired and, as she so often did when she was too out of it to think before speaking, she asked, “Was it difficult? Seeing Buffy again, I mean?” She regretted it the moment the words had left her mouth, but by then it was too late.

Angel wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say to say, but what she was going to get was honesty. “It was probably a lot like how it felt for you to see Tara. Seeing ex-lovers is always awkward.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, and he realized it hadn’t been the same for her at all. She was softer-hearted than he was and it was easy to see she felt a guilt and regret that he didn’t feel. He’d loved Buffy and it had been true and real and meaningful, but it was over and there was nothing wrong in letting go…in loving someone else now.

“Where should I put my things?” Angel asked, trying to steer away from any emotional topics and noticing the droop of Willow’s eyelids.

“Umm… You can have my parents’ room.”

He wanted to ask if that was where Spike had slept, but something told him not to ask. There was an answer he couldn’t have borne. “You look like you could use some sleep, so if you can just show me where that is…”

“Sure.” The emotional toll of the day had her far more fatigued than she usually was at this hour and Willow was relieved and grateful that Angel wasn’t trying to share her room or anything. She was too tired to argue with him, but she really wanted some alone time, even if all she was doing was sleeping. “It’s this way,” she said. Picking up her own bag and watching as he hoisted his, she headed for the staircase. Maybe it would even be easier to face Buffy tomorrow if she didn’t share a bed with Angel tonight.

Spike stood in the kitchen sipping a cup of blood. Wesley had gone home after a few drinks at that pub, so Spike's only company was the echo of Fred and Gunn being playful somewhere else – probably the lobby. He was lonely already – go figure. It was unexpected and harsh but for once he didn’t rush to drown his feelings in more alcohol. That was getting old – or maybe he was just in the mood for some novelty and actually going through a pain undiminished by excessive whiskey would at least be new…or new to his demon, anyway. Not like William hadn’t been there and done that.

But he wasn’t William and he hadn’t been for a century and then some. No, he was a demon – a vampire with a chip in his head and a love that burned bright for a vampire who’d never share it. And one day he’d get that last bit through his thick skull, now wouldn’t he? Perhaps he ought to ask Willow how she managed. She was so clear-eyed and accepting of it all – never a bit of hope in those eyes that one day the love she was wasting on him would be returned. Something else, that girl was. Would William…?

No, William, pathetic sap that he was, wouldn’t have loved Willow any more than Spike did. No man who threw his heart at Cecily would have the sense to love that wisely. It was the only thing Spike had in common with that stupid prat now – the stunning inability to love someone who could return his feelings. Cecily, Dru, Angelus, Buffy, Angel…the line that led from man to demon and they were each icier than the next.

And none of this introspective nonsense meant a damn thing. Even now, all Spike wanted was to feel Angel’s hands on him, to take that cock inside him.

He’d better go up and check on the brat. Angel had entrusted the boy to him and…well…that was something, right? Maybe if he bonded a bit with the baby… It wouldn’t make a difference at all. But Spike went up to the nursery anyway.

Giles lay under the lace-edged quilt and flowered sheets wondering if they were the reason he somehow couldn’t sleep. The house was quiet and he was worn out from a day full of emotional shocks and surprises. By all rights, he should have been asleep before his head had hit the pillow. So why was his mind restless?

It wasn’t as if he was actually thinking about anything in particular, though he had so very much to think _about_. Instead, it felt as if some part of his brain was desperately searching for something – the final piece to a puzzle that it had somehow decided –and entirely without consulting him – must be completed now.

He turned over to one side and then the other, hoping to distract himself with movement and thus facilitate sleep, but it seemed to have the opposite effect – a subconscious process was emerging into consciousness. Flashes of thought burst forth, random bits of recall from the day.

Willow’s nerves and flushed expression in the kitchen of the hotel.

_”He sort of looks like Angel.”_

Angel insisting on being the one to accompany Willow here.

_”Well, she’s practically his mom now.”_

With the echo of a Texan drawl in his ears, Giles sat bolt-upright, chilled to the bone in spite of the balmy weather and ample bedclothes.

Suddenly, it all seemed to be so clear – the puzzle had been assembled. But the picture made no sense.

It couldn’t be true. He refused to believe it. After all, there was Willow's relationship with Spike...and the curse, and… No, under no circumstances could there be anything untoward between Willow and Angel.

Tbc…


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Eight)

  
“Buffy, since when do you have gnomes?”

Ten minutes later, Willow was glad of her powers of observation. Turned out Warren and his cronies had the gang under surveillance – cameras at the house, the Doublemeat Palace, the Bronze, Xander’s construction site, and the Magic Box.

“Explains how they always seem to be one step ahead of us,” Xander said. “They’re not extra smart or anything, they’re cheating.”

“Boy, it’s a good thing I didn’t have sex with you at the Magic Box the other day,” Anya said, staring at the camera feed offering a view of the interior of her store. She noticed quickly that she wasn’t the only one staring at something, but everyone else was staring at _her_. “He was sad and I wanted to comfort him. It’s part of being a good wife.” Okay, at least Willow sort of smiled at her. Obviously, she was a good girlfriend to Spike and knew these things. But the look on Buffy’s face…well, it was no wonder _she_ wasn’t married.

Buffy shook her head slightly but said nothing, giving up at last on the idea that Anya would ever tone down the sex talk. She decided to be grateful that Dawn was in school and that Giles was still upstairs sleeping off his jet lag. “Will, is there any way you can trace these cameras or anything? Find out where they’re hiding?”

“Already on it,” Willow replied as she typed away on her laptop. The booby-traps and the firewalls were daunting, but not insurmountable. Still, these guys…no way were they far away from their computers right now. It was daylight and they were pretty clichéd and all. What if she accidentally alerted them?

Wait a minute…these guys were still geeks after all. They could be distracted. “Tara?” she asked, feeling guilty already for asking a favour from the girl she’d hurt so badly. “Could you manage kind of a glamour?” Willow was eager to avoid doing magic unless absolutely essential. The ‘Hellmouth itch’ made her fearful.

“Sure,” Tara answered. “What do you need?”

“You know what Anya just said? About her and Xander and…?”

“Sex?” Oh gosh. She had a feeling she wasn't going to find this pleasant.

“If you could just do a glamour on the camera feed at the Magic Box…something that will make them see Xander and Anya…”

“You want to let Warren and Jonathan and _Andrew_ see me naked?” Xander squealed.

“Not real you, just an imaginary glamour version of you. Right, Tara?”

“Right,” Tara answered, turning alternately pink and green and hiding behind her hair. Just the idea of Xander naked kind of made her queasy to be honest. She took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts, then softly mumbled the words to the glamour. In seconds…

“Oh!” Anya exclaimed. “We look hot!”

“Why do we have to do this anyway?” Xander asked, not at all happy about being on even imaginary display…although, yeah, he agreed with his wife – they made a pretty hot pair of sex monkeys.

“It’s a distraction. In case they figure out what I’m doing. I’m hoping this keeps them from shutting down the feed before I can trace it back to them.”

Xander decided to be mollified…and to set up a video camera at home very soon.

Willow turned her attention back to the computer and tried to keep her mind on what she was doing, but she had to admit that the sight of Xander and Anya having wild sex on a table in the Magic Box reminded her a whole lot of…well, what she was usually doing every night, just not with Xander and Anya. The guilt was nearly crippling. After all, she was currently in a room with two people who were grievously wronged by her sex life. She redoubled her efforts to trace the feed.

Okay – watching Xander and Anya have sex was…disturbing. But what was more disturbing to Buffy was the way it was affecting her. Looking away, she tried not to remember that wild night with Spike – the one and only night where she’d had a partner who’d fucked her like the Slayer she was. No romance, no gentleness, no need to hold back…

But he was Willow’s now and they were happy. There was nothing that she could…_would_ do to interfere with that. And really, deep down, she knew what she’d known the day she first said it out loud – what she and Spike had was meaningless. What she missed was the sex, not the partner she’d had.

What would it have been like, Buffy wondered, if she hadn’t been a virgin that night with Angel? If he’d let go and been the vampire and not the man? Fantasies began to form and she ruthlessly tamped them down. Her relationship with him was too much fantasy as it was and, more importantly, it was done. There was a curse that served as an ocean between them and… Yes, there was an ‘over-ness’ she’d never expected to see in his eyes, but it was there and… Maybe Giles was right and it was just Angel accepting reality and making himself focus entirely on his job and his friends. Guess she couldn’t blame him for that.

Time to do some focusing of her own – Willow was getting that ‘a-ha!’ look Buffy remembered so well.

“Thanks, Tara!” Willow crowed as a few more keystrokes did the trick. “I’ve got ‘em!”

“Does that mean we have to stop having sex now?” Anya asked. She was enjoying the show.

Tara blushed again. “I set it up so it’ll go on until you...I mean they…you know…_finish_.”

“But we don’t have to watch anymore, right?” Buffy asked. “You have the address and everything?”

“Sure do,” Willow caroled after a moment’s more typing. She scribbled it onto a piece of paper. “Here ya go, Buffy.”

But just before Willow could shut down the computer, the video of Xander and Anya was replaced by a red screen…and then words appeared:

Does Buffy Know?

“Know what?” Buffy asked, dashing Willow’s hopes that her friend was looking away.

“That Xander and I are having sex, obviously,” Anya said. Would Willow just shut that thing off? Because Anya was positive she knew exactly what the geeks were referring to…and this was not going to go well if Buffy added two and two correctly.

Just then, Giles came walking in. “Good morning. Or is afternoon?” And that seemed to be enough to distract Willow…who didn’t shut off her laptop in time to prevent a video from coming up.

There was no sound, but it didn’t really need it. It was Willow and Angel in front of the Summers’ house last night…and Angel was stroking her cheek. The expression on his face was unmistakable.

“Oh my god.”

“Buffy…” Willow wanted desperately to come up with an innocuous explanation, but there really wasn’t one. She was still going to try, though. “It’s not what it looks like. Really. This is all editing and…”

“Of course. You know how good those guys are with computers. Look how they just figured out we were tracking them. It had to be easy for them to make it look like Angel is head over heels in love with Willow.” Thanks for the help there, Anya. Buffy looked even greener and more upset than ever.

“Dear Lord,” Giles said softly, but there was a ‘something’ on his face…

“Did you know?” Buffy asked, not trusting herself to even look at Willow and instead focusing her attention on Giles.

“I… I suspected. I had no real proof.”

“Buffy, I…” Willow’s voice made her turn around. As much as Buffy knew that she had no right to be angry, that she and Angel were over and had been over since…maybe since before they even began, it didn’t change the fact that she _was_ angry – and hurt – and she felt betrayed. Her eyes moved over the faces of Anya and Xander and Tara. They’d known; they’d all known. And not one of them had warned her.

“I need… I need to be away from you. All of you.” And with that, Buffy fled from her house.

Willow sat at the table and burst into tears.

Willow’s room looked almost exactly as Angel remembered it from the nights he’d visited…both with and without his soul. The fish tank was gone. He vividly recalled stringing each of the fish she’d once had on a line, putting it in an envelope. He’d had plans for her then…plans from which Angel was grateful his demon had been distracted.

He should probably have felt guilty for snooping around in her room like this, but he rationalized it away by telling himself that she didn’t live here anymore – that anything left behind couldn’t have been that important or private. So he kept on poking through dresser drawers and combing through her closet. It would have been too much to hope, he supposed, that she’d left behind an old diary. He’d paid so little heed to her years ago; he’d give anything to know more about the girl she’d been when it had never occurred to him that he could love her. Maybe if he just worked backwards – learned – he’d be able to win her heart now.

He found pictures in a box tucked away on a shelf in her closet. She was so young in them – her hair in braids, smiling goofily, the sunshine lighting up her face. There were boys with her in many of the pictures: Xander and another he didn’t recognize. Jesse…it must be Jesse. She spoke of him sometimes, always with sad eyes on the verge of tears. Darla had turned him and Xander had dusted him. If Angel had loved Willow when Connor was born, he thought perhaps he’d have named him Jesse instead, evened the score somehow. Or would it have upset her – another creation of Darla’s with that name?

His reverie stopped at the sound of someone in the house downstairs. Not just someone – his senses screamed ‘Slayer.’

Buffy was here. Alone.

No one knew quite what to say – not even Anya, much to Giles’s rather grateful shock. Angel’s feelings for Willow having now been made undeniable to them all…well, what _was_ there to say?

Actually, quite a bit, now that he thought about it. Giles had questions – innumerable questions. “How on Earth…?” His voice trailed off when faced with Willow’s wide, tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry,” he began again. “It’s just that… Well, this is rather an unexpected development, isn’t it? I’m quite sure Buffy will come around, however.” He put his hand awkwardly on Willow’s shoulder, trying to offer reassurance and not achieving much – well, any – success. He was, however, now of a mind to never mention the existence of Angel’s son. That, at least, might keep things from getting worse.

Tara surprised herself by speaking up. “It’s not your fault, you know.” The half-smile Willow gave her made her heart twist. “I…I could see how he felt when I saw you in L.A.”

Willow’s voice was pleading. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Tara replied, as much for everyone else’s benefit as Willow’s. Funny how the girl who broke her heart still had a home in it. But Willow hadn’t meant to hurt her; she knew that. And even if she had, Tara would still want to defend her. “That’s why I didn’t say anything when I was there.” Her voice was clear and strong and it surprised her.

“I’m guessing Spike isn’t too happy about Deadboy drooling all over you,” Xander said, wondering why the heck Spike hadn’t staked Angel over this. If anybody ever made googly eyes at Anya… he took his wife’s hand.

Anya squeezed Xander’s hand in return. She’d actually _wanted_ to ask about Spike and here Xander was doing it for her. He was a very good husband.

“He’s… We haven’t talked about it,” Willow lied.

Okay, Willow might not be the lousy liar she was back in high school, but Xander could still tell when his best friend was full of it. What he couldn’t understand was _why_ she was lying. Why not just say that Spike was holding off on kicking Angel’s blow-dried, brooding ass because he liked getting paid, or because he got off on having something Angel wanted and couldn’t have? Xander had to admit there was something to be said for either of those things.

He wasn’t the one with the deep, intricate thoughts. Usually even Dawn figured out stuff before he did, and he always needed detailed explanations to catch up. But this time? This time Xander had the oddest feeling that he was closer than anyone to figuring something out. The problem was that he had no idea what the heck it was. And somehow, he didn’t think that his soldier memories would be a whole lot of help.

But there was something Willow had said once…he was trying to grab the memory…it had something to do with Cordelia…

Giles had a difficult time believing that Spike and Willow had never discussed Angel’s rather obvious feelings, but then again when Spike’s own selfish interests were involved, he supposed he could believe it after all. It wouldn’t surprise him if Spike had even found a way to use Angel’s feelings to his own advantage. He couldn’t think of another reason Angel would allow him to stay – even employ him – manipulative, thrice-damned vampire that Spike was. How on Earth had Willow fallen in love with him?

Tara chimed in, breaking the rather awkward silence that had descended on the room. “That’s good, right?” Her heart gave another twist. “I mean, it’s nice of Spike not to start a big fight with Angel.” What she didn’t say was that it hurt – Spike being so considerate. He must really love her girl... no, not her girl… he must really love Willow. “I guess… It sort of makes sense anyway. It’s not like Angel can… Not with the curse and all.”

_Fight._

The word rang in Xander’s head. Suddenly, all those almost-thoughts he was having began to turn into the real thing…and he realized just why he’d spent the better part of his life and energy trying not to think at all.

_”You two were fighting way too much. It’s not natural.”_

He wasn’t sure what his thoughts meant yet, but he hated and feared it already.

“Will?” he asked, ignoring the possibility that he was about to start more trouble. “Is there any way you and I could go talk? Alone?”

“Angel?” There was pain in Buffy’s voice as Angel entered the living room. It didn’t take much for him to guess what she was there about. Giles, that bastard, had told her about Connor.

“I think I know why you’re here,” Angel said, deciding to cut to the chase. “Giles told you, didn’t he?” Buffy made no move to sit, so Angel stayed standing – and wary. He was trapped by daylight and easily cornered in this house and there was no telling how Buffy was reacting to the news. She could be deceptively calm when she was plotting revenge.

“No.” Buffy was doing her best to hold herself together. The last thing she wanted to do was make a big scene; she was more sure than ever that she didn’t have a right to anyway. But she had questions, and she had things to say. “There was… Willow was tracing some cameras that Warren and the others had planted at my house and the Magic Box and… They caught on and they sent us a video.”

Her words stopped Angel short. He was almost positive there was no way they knew about Connor. So he stayed quiet for a moment and thought. And then he realized that it wasn’t Connor she’d learned about. She’d said there were cameras at her house. They must have filmed him with Willow last night. Damn it. But at least all Buffy must know was that he had feelings for Willow – not the rest. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“You love her.”

“I do.”

“You know she loves Spike, right? That they’re together?”

The words cut him to the core, but she had a right to draw some blood, so he gave it to her. “I know.”

Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone through so many emotions in a single day. She’d been angry and hurt, but now, standing here, she’d gone from feeling sorry for herself to feeling sorry for _him_. She’d never really loved someone who didn’t love her back. It must be agonizing. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“When did it stop? You and me, I mean?” Even as she asked, she knew it was a selfish, stupid question. That didn’t mean she didn’t want it answered, though.

Angel had a choice, he supposed, though he could only see one way to proceed – truth, harsh though it might be. “It was over before Willow came to Los Angeles.” He reached out, putting his hand under Buffy’s chin for a moment before ending the contact. “You’ll always be special to me, but what we had… It wasn’t forever. And that’s a good thing. It means you can move on, find the right guy, be happy. You don’t have to hang onto the past, because there _is_ something better out there for you, something that _is_ forever.”

She smiled sadly, wishing she could say the same things to him. She was almost there, but not quite yet. Anyway, it would be cruel, wouldn’t it, with the curse still standing in the way? “I guess it’s a good thing Spike knows about the curse, huh? Otherwise you’d probably have some real problems.”

Angel shrugged. He’d rather let her lie to herself right now than take part. Especially since what he wanted was to give her more of the truth.

“Buffy, there’s something else I need to tell you, something important.”

“What is it?” she asked, fearing the serious look on his face.

And again, he decided not to waste time. He got right to the point. “I have a son.”

Okay, she was pretty sure that was English Angel was speaking, but she was also pretty sure that it meant something different than it sounded like. “What do you mean?”

“I have a son. A flesh and blood, human son. His name is Connor.”

If Buffy could have figured out which way ‘down’ was, she might have collapsed. Maybe it was fortunate that her brain was too scrambled trying to process what she’d just been told. “You have a…but who…how…?”

Angel took her arm gently, guiding her to the sofa and helping her sit down. She was obviously overwhelmed. No use trying to give her the whole story now, just the salient points. “I’m still not sure how it happened – well, not the conception part – but I do have a son. Yes, he’s human. And as for the mother… It was Darla.”

Buffy’s brain gave up, refusing to try and understand anything anymore. All Buffy was left with was the struggle to find something to say. “I…uh…I guess I should congratulate you or something, right?” Memories of daydreams where she and Angel had somehow had a child of their own flooded her mind. She wanted to scream at the universe. It wasn’t fair. “He’s really human, huh?”

“Yeah. Willow says he looks like me, though.”

“Willow knew?” And once again, Buffy managed to say something so stupid that she wished she knew magic so she could make it disappear. She decided to laugh – being the first one to do that would take away the sting, right? “Of course she knew. Sorry. This is just…”

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Angel smiled at her, hoping she realized that he truly did understand. “You can imagine how weird it was for me. I never thought…”

“No, I guess not, huh?”

“I asked her not to tell you,” Angel added, hoping to soften Buffy’s feelings toward Willow. “Made her promise, actually.”

“I kinda figured that out.” She wished other things would let her figure them out, too, but… “I need to go, Angel,” she said. One thing about the brain-fry – it reminded her that there were important things she should be doing right now. “I have to go back, figure out what to do now that we know where the geeks are holed up.” She stood, cheering inwardly when her legs held her upright.

“Are you okay?”

“Not yet,” Buffy replied. “But I will be.”

Tbc…


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Thirty-Nine)

  
“What’s really going on with you and Spike and Angel?” Xander’s voice was soft even though they were in the kitchen. You never knew who could be eavesdropping, though he was pretty sure Anya would try to warn him if anyone tried. She knew he’d tell her everything later. “Because I’m guessing it’s a lot more complicated than Angel standing on the sidelines watching you and Spike make with the smoochies.”

No. This wasn’t happening. While Willow hadn’t had any actual idea what Xander wanted to talk to her about, she’d never considered the possibility that he’d figured out the truth about what was going on in her love life. That wasn’t because she didn’t think he was smart or anything, it was just…okay, she loved Xander dearly, but she didn’t always see him as being one to think think-y thoughts. Couldn’t he have picked another way to prove her wrong?

She had two choices: lie or tell the truth. She chose door number three. “I… It’s complicated.”

“And I kind of already figured that out. Care to add something new to the conversation?” Xander was sort of insulted by the fact that she obviously thought she could distract him by repeating what he said, but then again, if he were letting Angel touch him the way they'd all just seen in that video, he might want to get out of talking about it, too. Scratch the ‘might’ and make that an ‘absolutely, positively.’

“Look, I’m not gonna judge you, alright?” Willow raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it’s Deadboy, so yeah, there might be some judging going on, but only very open-minded, non-judgmental judging.” He reached out and took her hand. “You’re my best friend. I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

He meant it; she could tell. And it would be such a relief to actually have someone to talk to about this. Pulling Xander further back away from the kitchen door, Willow took a deep breath. “It’s… It’s kind of a _ménage à trois_ thing.”

She waited for the explosion, but it didn’t come. Xander looked slightly off, but he was quiet and restrained. There was a big question, though, and she decided to answer it before he asked. “As long as Angel doesn’t forget he’s a demon, he can…you know…”

“Get happy?” Xander already felt ill, but there were things he needed to know and he had a feeling Willow would try to talk around them. Call it women’s intuition – the kind of intuition you get when all of your friends have been girls for way too many years. “That doesn’t really explain why he’s getting his happy on with you, though. ‘Cause maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I just don’t see the love thing when you look at him. The other way around, sure, but…”

“It’s Spike,” she interrupted. She wanted to tell him everything; she did. “He… He has feelings for Angel.”

“And Angel has the super-creepy hots for you, but I don’t see…” Except he suddenly did. And all of Spike’s pretty words at the wedding turned to ash. If that undead bastard was here right now, Xander would stake him.

There were wise and caring things he should be saying right now, but while Xander had all the caring, he just couldn’t come up with the wise. So he pulled his very best friend into a hug. “Why?” he asked, because that was all he could say.

“I love him. I love him so much.” Out of everyone she knew, the only person who could possibly understand why that explained everything was Xander. The fact that he said nothing important as she shed silent tears in his arms told her he did.

Angel sat on the sofa and ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how the talk with Buffy had gone. On the one hand, she gave every appearance of being willing to deal with what she’d learned like an adult, but that might just as easily have been shock as equanimity. Still, this was Buffy and he was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. He might not be in love with her anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d stopped respecting her or seeing the decent girl she was and had always been at heart.

But then again, would the Buffy he had always known use Spike?

And didn’t he feel hypocritical for even thinking that. Hypocrisy or no, however, he couldn’t escape the fact that screwing Spike without loving him – and that was easily inferred from both what Spike had told him and what he _hadn’t_ – wasn’t like the Buffy he’d loved.

Besides, his relationship with Spike was different. Spike had made the offer, after all, and he’d known the terms from the get-go. Somehow he didn’t see Buffy spelling out that her legs were the only thing open to Spike before they got down to it – not in so many calm, dispassionate words, anyway.

To be fair, though, people changed and they also developed needs. The Buffy he’d known was a sexually-inexperienced girl. She’d had at least one lover since him and she’d grown older, become a woman. Appetite didn’t necessarily make her a different creature, just a hungrier one.

All those thoughts just took him right back to where he’d started – believing the best of her. He was willing to believe that she’d accepted that their love was a thing of the past for them both and she had also accepted that he had a son. What he wasn’t so sure of was how she would deal with learning that his relationship with Willow was far more than one-sided pining. Which is why he was hoping she wouldn’t find out, at least not now. It would complicate things far too much.

But there were other things about Buffy – more immediate things – that were worrying him as well.

He decided to make a call.

“Angel Investigations, we help the…”

“Cordelia, it’s me.”

“Angel. So, has Buffy been shot at yet?” Angel was almost amused by the hopeful tone in his seer’s voice but something about her choice of words struck him.

“Not yet. But speaking of that, there was so much chaos in the office that day… Care to go over your vision with me again?”

She’d meant to go home – she had – but somehow Buffy had ended up fishing the piece of paper with the address of geek central on it out of the pocket of her jeans and heading there instead. Kicking ass, after all, was comfort food, and anyway, she still wasn’t buying the idea that those three losers could take her down.

Breaking and entering wasn’t exactly outside her skill set, so getting into the modest home where apparently a basement – geekly cliché much? – served as nerd headquarters hadn’t been all that tough. She’d kicked through a door, made with the witty banter, seen some really gross and demeaning statues…all pretty much expected – well, except for the part where she’d been really hoping they hadn’t yet made their escape . But then came the buzz saws. Buzz saws? Really? These guys watched way too many cartoons.

Unfortunately, the stupid Acme trick actually worked, driving her out and destroying most – though not all – of the evidence of what the trio was up to. It also destroyed her leather jacket, and don’t think she wasn’t going to make those annoying fanboy creeps pay for that.

There was nothing to do about it right now, though. Their van was gone and all that remained was a ginsu-ed house and some papers and books and stuff strewn all over the lawn. She gathered them all up, with a heavy sigh for her ruined jacket, and started walking back to her house.

Shredded jackets, saying goodbye to a dream and to the one love she’d always counted on… Today sucked. Something really needed to happen to make it better.

But maybe it kind of had. Could the saws have been the attempt on her life from Cordelia’s famous vision? If so, then at least today wasn’t a total loss.

Her mind drifted back to the image of Angel tenderly touching Willow’s face.

Yeah, not a total loss…

“Where’s Buffy? And Willow and Xander?” Dawn asked as she lugged her schoolbooks into the house. She hated school. Like she was learning anything important there. Today they were talking about the Boxer Rebellion and the teacher didn’t even mention how William the Bloody killed the Slayer.

Giles began to answer, “Willow and Xander are in the kitchen having a private conversation and Buffy…”

“…is off having a temper tantrum because Angel likes Willow,” Anya finished.

“That’s hardly a fair or accurate assessment of the situation.” Giles hastened to defend his Slayer. “She was merely experiencing an entirely understandable sense of loss and betrayal at having discovered Angel’s feelings for Willow so suddenly and in such an unexpected fashion.”

“How…?”

“There was video,” Tara said softly. “Angel was…s-stroking Willow’s cheek. We saw it when Willow was trying to trace these c-cameras they had hidden everywhere.”

One more reason school sucked – Dawn missed everything when she was there. Hello! She could read Sumerian – well, _some_ Sumerian – and a whole bunch of Latin – well, sort of a whole bunch of Latin. What did she need high school for anyway?

“When did this happen?”

“This morning, Dawnie.” Willow was apologetic as she and Xander emerged from the kitchen, though she’d have felt more so if Xander hadn’t informed her that pretty much everyone but Buffy had figured out how Angel felt before today.

Dawn was torn. On the one hand, she was sorry that her sister was upset, but on the other hand… What was wrong with Buffy? Still pining over the King of Hair Gel? C’mon. Maybe this would finally be the wake-up call she needed to grow up and get some taste. And really, she kinda felt sorry for Willow. Angel was stroking her cheek? EWWW! Willow should have whipped up some mojo and zapped him into another dimension. And hey…wasn’t she _Spike’s_ girlfriend? Should she have even let Angel touch her in the first place?

“Hey, guys.”

Buffy was back. Guess that meant they weren’t gonna be talking about Angel.

Sundown. At last. Angel was anxious to get back to Buffy’s house. He figured nothing had happened to Willow, but he still longed to see her. He also wanted to share the details about the vision Cordelia had given him today. Well, the one detail he couldn’t recall her having shared before – the attempt on Buffy’s life would involve a gun.

A gun. It seemed such a prosaic and insulting way to try to end the life of a Slayer like Buffy. She was a force to be reckoned with and she merited a higher class of assassination attempt. He wondered about the vision, but he trusted Cordelia and if she said Buffy was in real danger, then she must be.

He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. If he didn’t want to see Willow so badly, he’d be dreading seeing the others. Xander was sure to make some smartass remark – the same went for Dawn. The mouth on that one… Oh well, at least maybe this meant he didn’t have to be nice to the brat anymore. One could only hope.

Xander would never admit it but he was always pretty awed watching Willow work her computer mojo. Sure, he’d usually pretended to be bored and not really care, but the truth was that it impressed him at least as much as her magic did…and it sometimes hurt, because unlike magic it was something he could do himself if he was just smart enough. What sucked worse than not having super powers? Not being much good as a human either. He reached for Anya’s hand and held it tight. Someday, when she was in a soft mood with her eyes gentle and human, he’d get up the courage and ask her why she loved him, what she saw that he never did no matter what angle he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Any luck deciphering this stuff?” he asked.

“Yup. Well, most of it,” she said, pointing to some scribbled symbols on a torn brown piece of paper. “That I can’t figure out at all.”

Before he could stop himself, Xander blurted out, “It’s Klingon. Love poems.” Looking at the smirk on Angel’s face made him want to blurt out that he knew how pathetic the undead creep actually was.

Luckily, Willow spoke up and stopped him from inadvertently ruining her life. “Thanks, Xander,” she said with a smile as bright as could be. “I was gonna tear my hair out over that one. Which brings us back to the stuff I do know.” She tapped a few keys and something Xander easily recognized as blueprints appeared on the screen . “There’s banks, armoured car routes, corporate vaults.”

“Wow, that sounds big,” Dawn said, wanting to contribute something, and even more wanting Angel to not speak at all.

“They’re obviously looking to score a lot of cash,” Angel said, dashing her hopes.

“I can’t cover all these places at once, guys.” Buffy was, for the first time, feeling daunted by the trio…and she wasn’t too happy about the fact that she hadn’t yet dodged the attempted murder either. Would have been nice if Cordelia had thought to mention a gun before today; at least then Buffy wouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I know which one they’ll be hitting tonight.” Willow turned the screen to face Buffy directly. “See? This one’s time sensitive. If they don’t rob it tonight, they miss their chance at the big score.”

“Armoured car, too,” Buffy said. “Good bet they’ll be bringing guns. Guess tonight’s ‘vision time.’” She was kind of relieved – at least she could be completely prepared. But still… “You know, I realize that we are nicknamed The Scoobies and all, but did they have to get so literal about it? I mean, Wild River Adventures? They have to know those amusement park capers never end well.”

Xander chuckled and even Anya cracked a smile.

“I’ll go with you,” Willow said.

“Me, too.” Angel was making a statement and it wasn’t open for discussion. Buffy was torn between feeling like old times and...feeling like old times. What hurt was that he was going because he wanted to protect an old friend, not the love of his unlife. Still, she guessed she should be glad. For all that her heart hurt and some jealousy was still unresolved, she loved Willow dearly and anything that might keep her best friend – and yes, Willow still was that – from having to use magic was a good thing.

“Thanks,” she said, avoiding Angel’s eyes.

“Do be careful, Buffy,” Giles said. He wanted to offer to go with them but realized he’d likely not be much use.

“You know me. Careful is my middle name,” she lied. She was so glad Giles was here. Now, more than ever, he was the anchor of her world. If he ever tried to leave again, she was going to tie him up and… Oh God. That sounded a lot creepier than she actually meant it, even in her head.

Tara came over to Willow and put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll… I’ll say a prayer to the goddess for you,” she whispered.

Tears filled Willow’s eyes and she could barely choke out a ‘thank you.’ Tara would always be more than she had ever deserved.

After letting her hand touch Tara’s briefly, she got up and grabbed her purse while Buffy and Angel grabbed some weapons. It was time to stop the revenge of the nerds.

The door had barely shut behind Buffy and the others when Anya grabbed Xander’s hand and went to pull him into the kitchen. “I need to make out with my husband,” she offered by way of explanation, knowing she could easily get away with that as an excuse. And really, it wasn’t as if she didn’t _want_ to make out with Xander, but she had questions she needed to ask first and… Just drag him, Anya, and think later.

Of course it worked. Giles gulped and cleaned his glasses, Tara looked away, and Dawn looked as if she was trying to hide an intense desire to watch. None of them said a word. It wasn’t like Xander was protesting either. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed when she wanted to talk first.

Xander was moving in for a kiss when Anya pushed him away. Huh? What? He thought she’d said… Oh no. He couldn’t believe it. Anya had lied. And here he was thinking he’d dodged the bullet of having to spill his guts to Anya about what he and Willow had talked about.

At least he’d warned Willow that he had no secrets from his wife. But still…right now felt like such a weird time. “Are you sure we should be talking about this now? I mean, Dawn is probably listening in on us. Not like anyone out there can stop her. Not the way you could.”

Anya stared into Xander’s eyes. It was obvious he was making an excuse, but she also knew it wasn’t because he was trying to keep secrets from her. Strangely, right now, for the first time, she realized just how well she knew him – and she could see how hard it was for him to balance being Willow’s friend and her husband. She respected him so much for his loyalty.

But that didn’t mean for a second that she wasn’t going to get every single detail out of him. She was Willow’s friend too, and she’d keep her secrets – she just insisted on hearing them first. She dragged Xander to the farthest corner of the kitchen and whispered hoarsely, “Spill it, Xander.”

Xander was always helpless when being ordered around by Anya. It was hard to argue with a woman who’d once been capable of making men’s penises burst into flames. Still, in the split second before he spoke, he decided that some things, the things that had made Willow cry, were going to stay private. “I'll tell you. But keep this just between us, okay? And whatever you do, stay quiet.” He paused for a moment and maneuvered into a position where he could easily cover Anya’s mouth if need be. “Willow isn’t just having an affair with Spike. Angel’s part of it, too.”

Tbc…


	41. Chapter Forty

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty)

The fight was over, the robbery foiled, and all that was left was the walk home and the post-game wrap-up.

“Is it just me or were those orbs way too literal of a sexual metaphor?” Buffy was still feeling disturbed about having grabbed them and crushed them. The words ‘ball buster’ came to mind and they were messing with her femininity. But what she hated more was how she had needed Angel’s help to hold her own with Warren before Jonathan told her about the orbs in the first place. It made her think that maybe she was off her game – or more disturbingly, that Spike might have been right about her wanting to die; not then, but now.

“It sort of fits in with their whole adolescent sexual orientation,” Willow said, grimacing a bit as she realized that doing the Psych 101 thing might have been a mistake…reminders of Riley were probably not what Buffy needed right now.

“Adolescent?” Angel snorted. “I think you’re giving them too much credit.” He was just glad Willow hadn’t been compelled to do any magic tonight, though he knew she’d considered it when Warren took off.

“And rocket packs? Disney much?” Buffy said, getting into the spirit of the banter. “Though I have to admit, watching Andrew knock himself unconscious? Priceless.”

Angel chuckled at the memory. “It was pretty funny after that corny exit line of his.”

“Straight out of a cartoon,” Willow agreed. “Thanks again for not being mad about…” She was still wondering if she should have taken the risk and tried to mojo Warren back down to Earth.

“No worries, Will. We’ll catch him soon. Not like there’s much he can do now that he’s neutered.” Buffy was breezy and flippant. Yes, Angel had told her that Cordelia’s vision involved a gun – and no, no one had pointed one at her – but for all she knew, Warren had flown away with it or the police would find it on Andrew or Jonathan. The danger could have completely passed, right? “Hey, at least the other two losers are in jail now.”

“They’re probably spilling their guts already,” Willow chirped. Best to keep a positive attitude, right? Even though the really dangerous one was still out there.

“Absolutely,” Buffy agreed. She slowed down to keep pace with Willow and put her arm around her, giving her a brief hug. “It’s really okay, you know – you not using magic. I understand.” Her mind flashed back to Dawn in the alley and she hoped Willow knew that she meant it. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that Wesley was right…but she didn’t exactly look forward to seeing it put to the test either.

She wasn’t even going to let her mind go to the ‘Angel loves Willow’ place.

“We’ll get him,” Angel said. He was glad to see Buffy embracing Willow. He’d been right in thinking the best of her. “Without his cronies or his…orbs…he can’t do much.” Except fire a gun. Angel was putting himself on high alert. “Still, I think maybe Willow and I should stay at your place tonight. Just in case…”

“In case Warren decides to come by and shoot me?” Someone had to acknowledge the elephant in the room, even if she wasn’t sure it was actually there.

“We’ll never let that happen,” Willow said.

Buffy smiled – maybe because she believed her or maybe because she figured it was a moot point and Warren was off somewhere pissing his pants and reading comics, plotting his impotent revenge.

They kept walking. No more quips. No more banter. No more reassurances. They just kept walking.

Spike had been staying in Angel’s room since Red and his grand-sire had gone back to Sunnydale. It wasn’t like Angel was here to object, and hell, it wasn’t as if Spike wasn’t here more often than not normally anyway. Besides, Angel had told him to watch the brat and that was a damn sight easier to do from this room than back in his own little monk’s cell with its purgatorial mattress and cubbyhole of a shower. Hell, his crypt had more luxurious fittings than where Angel saw fit to put his own…

Well, some of his own, at any rate. The brat had it just fine, not that it even mattered to the squalling little creature. All Connor ever did was coo and slobber all over his toys and eat and shit and sleep and then wake up and do it all over again – oh, sometimes he’d vomit for a bit of a change of pace, but that seemed to be about it. What the devil did he care where he did any of it? It wasn’t fair, really, and Spike felt he had a right to resent the little beast at least slightly.

But damn if Connor wasn’t starting to look like Angel. It made it hard to hate the boy at all. Sometimes, though, it was painful, seeing that little one – so innocent and trusting, so much like what Angel must have been so very long ago. It brought back memories Spike didn’t want – of his mother…both before and after. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the vision of what he’d turned her into – how he’d damned her, how he’d damned himself. He’d loved her as devotedly as ever a son could love and yet…

Wasn’t as if he had to go rooting through his past for reasons to hurt, was it? Because Angel hadn’t called him once while he was gone. Willow hadn’t either and that wounded his ego just a bit. The chit was supposed to be in love with him. Of course, now that he thought about it, she probably figured he didn’t care whether she called him or not. She wasn’t entirely wrong – much as he hated to admit it. Angel was the one he missed most. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel her absence more than a little bit. She was a sweet girl - always nice to him, always trying to cater to him. A bloke would have to be crazy not to enjoy that.

Still, it was Angel’s body he wanted beside him, inside him, in this bed right now and he’d be a liar if he didn’t say that he’d happily do without ever touching Willow again if he could have Angel all to himself. He couldn’t, though, so that was a moot point. Because everything Spike felt for Angel, Angel felt for Willow, and he knew – despite those hopes of his that refused to die – that it would always be that way. He wondered: Would Willow always love _him_?

He stayed still on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet and the loneliness. Those annoying geek bastards needed to just make their attempt on Buffy's life and have done with it. It was time for Angel to come home.

It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but Willow managed to get a couple of hours rest on Buffy’s sofa. She had insisted on staying downstairs with Angel in the vamp-proofed living room, leaving Giles in the upstairs bedroom. It wasn’t that she was worried that Giles would stake Angel or anything, it was just… Okay, she was sort of worried. Giles was less than happy that Angel had feelings for her and even more less than happy that Buffy had found out. At least with the two of them separated, both of them would live through the rest of Angel’s stay in Sunnydale.

Morning had come and Willow made her way groggily to the kitchen for some coffee. The need for caffeine hummed within her as she wandered around in the once-so-very-familiar room. It wasn’t so much anymore. She opened two cupboards before finding the one that had the can of coffee in it.

At least teaspoon-of-coffee and water ratios were the same no matter where you were.

She had just turned on the coffeemaker when a tap on her shoulder startled her and she whirled around. “Buffy, you scared me,” she said, trying to keep her voice low.

“Sorry.”

The silence that followed was awkward. Last night had been all about dealing with the geeks, and everything else had just gotten shuffled to the back of Buffy’s mind – kind of a blessing considering she had been in shock and all. But now…now she’d had some sleep – even if it had been fitful and restless – and Andrew and Jonathan were in jail and…yeah, there were things she and Willow needed to talk about. Only she’d rather not do that where super vamp hearing would enable Angel to eavesdrop. She liked her private conversations to be actually private, especially when she might say things she only wanted her best friend to hear.

“Would you mind if we went outside? I kind of thought maybe we should talk.”

Willow had been dreading this, but she owed Buffy, and so she answered, “Yeah. Sure.”

Then it was silence again as she followed Buffy out the door. Guess she wouldn’t be having any coffee. She didn’t really need it now anyway, though; her nervousness had done a nice job of waking her up.

The backyard looked pretty good, Willow thought. Obviously Xander was still manning the mower and the hedge clippers - and hey, he’d fixed that loose board in the fence. How badly could she be looking for a distraction if she was noticing fence boards?

“Did you have a good night’s sleep?” Willow asked. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Not really.” Buffy smiled sadly at Willow. “Look, I’m not mad at you, okay? I didn’t bring you out here to…”

“Stake me?” Willow interrupted. “I wouldn’t really blame you if you did.” Especially since she knew how much deeper her betrayal ran than Buffy ever would…than she _hoped_ Buffy ever would.

“It’s not your fault. I know that. And it’s not like Angel and I are… I guess it still sort of feels that way though and that’s why…”

“I understand. I do and… Buffy, I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” And she did. The look in Willow’s eyes was pure remorse. Maybe it was wrong, but that did make her feel better – that and the fact that Willow didn’t love Angel and that no matter what, she could never share with Angel what Buffy had. Something was nagging her about that, though and before she knew it, she was asking, “So. Angel’s son. How did that happen? I mean, the curse is still there, right? And he didn’t lose his soul or anything?”

It would have been nice if Angel had warned her that he’d told Buffy… “You know about Connor?” Her voice was high and squeaky.

Buffy chuckled softly and Willow sort of felt better. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. But yeah. Angel told me yesterday. He wasn’t too forthcoming with the details, though, and that’s why…”

“It was this evil law firm. They brought Darla back from the dead as a human and they used a spell to make Angel all obsessed and…” Under no circumstances was Willow going to tell Buffy that Angel could be as happy as he wanted to be as long as remembered he was a demon. “Well, yeah, he and Darla had sex but it wasn’t like perfect happiness or anything because he didn’t love her and besides there was this prophecy which pretty much meant he couldn’t lose it either and Darla got pregnant – oh, and Drusilla turned her back into a vampire, which is really weird when you think about it. Kind of upsets the whole generational balance. But anyway, Darla gave birth to Connor and she staked herself so she wouldn't hurt him and… That’s pretty much the whole story.”

Buffy sat down on the nearby bench, just trying to take it all in as she watched Willow try to catch her breath. Again, maybe very wrong of her, but knowing that Angel didn’t love Darla was a big plus. She guessed maybe she was even sort of happy for him. Maybe he could never have a real relationship again ever, but he had a son and that was something. He deserved that. He did.

Sitting down next to Buffy, Willow watched the play of emotions on her face; she could see acceptance finally bloom in Buffy’s eyes. “You’re okay with this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Buffy reached over and pulled Willow close. “I love you, you know. And I’ll deal.” She wasn’t just talking about the knowledge of Angel’s son and they both knew it.

Willow wrapped her arms around her friend, knowing how fragile their relationship truly was.

Seconds later, she tensed. “Buffy,” she said, pushing her away and leaping up from the bench as Buffy did likewise.

They weren’t alone in the yard anymore.

“You think you could just do that to me? You think I’d let you get away with that?” Warren yelled, crazed and desperate. He laughed once and then said, “Think again,” as he raised his right arm…his right hand held a gun.

As he fired it, Willow didn’t think, there was no time. Instinct and magic took over. She raised her own right hand as the bullet sped towards Buffy and cried, “Home!”

After that, everything seemed to be in slow motion. No one moved and the air crackled with power. For a moment, Willow felt nothing but relief. There was no darkness. The bullet would go right back into the gun and…

But then the world sped up again and…

The bullet hadn’t gone back into Warren’s gun.

Instead, Warren lay on the ground, his eyes wide and unseeing as a wet stain spread across his black shirt.

Now Willow was the one who moved slowly, inching towards the body. Buffy was already there. “Oh my God, Willow. You…”

“I killed him.”

The sound of gunfire from outside sent shockwaves through the house. Giles and Dawn both ran downstairs and out into the yard, not even stopping to say a word to Angel – Angel, who was trapped inside by the sunlight and could only wait and hope that no one had been killed.

“Good lord,” Giles breathed as he stared down at the motionless body. “How on Earth did this…?”

“Willow,” Buffy said softly. “When Warren pulled out his gun, she…”

“I meant for the bullet to go right back into the gun. I said ‘home’. That’s what I said, right? I know that’s what I said.” Willow could almost feel herself getting lost, drifting into nothingness.

Warren was dead and it was all her fault. She should have used a different spell – a shield, maybe, or just made the bullet fall to the ground or…something, anything. Because this wasn’t like the demon attack or even when she’d had to send Holtz to another dimension. Warren was human. They weren’t supposed to kill humans.

Dawn just gazed at the body. He was still holding the gun – the gun he’d just intended to shoot her sister with. Deep down inside, she was wondering why everyone seemed so upset, but she didn’t say anything. There were times when she was almost too aware that she wasn’t human – not really – and she didn’t like reminding anyone. But the truth was that she didn’t think Warren’s death was a big deal at all.

The look on Warren’s face had Buffy almost mesmerized. He looked harmless…and scared. For a moment, she almost forgot about the gun still clutched in his hand, and even when she remembered, it seemed so small. She understood intellectually that Willow had probably saved her life and that what she’d done had been with the very best of intentions, but…

There was a dead body on the ground at her feet. A human body. And the Slayer inside was screaming that no matter what, killing a human was wrong. When Willow tried to touch her, she pulled away.

Giles was struggling to comprehend what had just transpired when the sound of approaching sirens roused him from his reflection. Willow was in no fit condition to deal with the police. Heaven only knew what she might say. “Go inside,” he said sharply. “Now.”

Angel was pacing, running his hands through his hair, feeling imprisoned by daylight as if it were the bars on a jail cell. What in the hell was going on out there?

Willow walked into the living room like a zombie, her eyes going vacant, and it was obvious to Angel that something terrible had happened. “Oh God. Is it…?”

“Warren,” she said, her voice blank and void. “I killed him.”

In a trice, Angel pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. She was almost as cold as he was and he wished he could warm her. “You did what you had to do.” Maybe he didn’t know the whole story, but he knew that was truth.

She wasn’t sure how she got there, but in a minute or so, Willow realized she was sitting on the couch, Angel’s arms wrapped around her. “He tried to shoot…the bullet…it was supposed to go back into the gun. I said ‘home’ and everything. It should have…”

Funny how just a few words could make everything clear. Angel could almost see it all happening in front of him as if he’d been outside when it happened. If only he could make Willow see what he did.

“Warren had murder in his heart. I think the bullet went right where it was supposed to go.”

“But he was human, Angel. I killed a human.” And with that, she burst into tears.

Angel kept his arms around her and let her cry. As much as it pained him that she was hurting, it was better than the state of near shock she’d been in a few moments ago. She needed to feel, even if what she was feeling was pain…even if Angel had to feel it right along with her.

Not once did it occur to him to call Spike.

Tbc…


	42. Chapter Forty-One

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-One)

The police and their questions had been disposed of with a speed that Buffy knew would be shocking to people who lived in places that weren’t here. The Mayor might be gone, but his spectre remained and the cops in Sunnydale still believed in fork accidents, PCP gangs, and not working too hard. They were gone now and so was Warren’s body.

“Did you see me handle the cops?” Dawn crowed, giddy at having been the one who came up with the cover story. “They didn’t even ask to go in the house or take us down to the station or anything.”

It wasn’t like Dawn was expecting a parade or anything, but could Buffy and Giles at least stop moping like somebody died? Okay, technically somebody _did_ die, but it was Warren. Who was trying to kill Buffy. Dawn was still having a hard time seeing why this was supposed to be so tragic. “You know – what I told the police? It was really kinda true if you think about it. I mean, Warren pretty much _did_ commit suicide. He was killed by a bullet from his own gun – which he fired. That’s exactly like suicide. It _is_ suicide. If he hadn’t shot at Buffy, he would totally be alive right now.”

Buffy wanted to see it that way, she did, but she couldn’t stop staring at the blood on the grass where Warren’s body had been. He was human and he was dead and… “He didn’t kill himself. It was…”

“Willow,” Giles finished, his mind still reeling. He wasn’t sure what to think at the moment. Of course he was glad that Buffy’s life had been saved, but the fact remained – Willow had used magic to end a man’s life and the fact that she claimed she had not intended to do so worried him all the more. Was it, as she and Wesley had concluded, the influence of the Hellmouth? Or was the answer far more disturbing? Was Willow inherently dangerous and unstable?

As of now, Dawn was fed up with the gloom and doom on Buffy and Giles’s faces. “Hello? Am I the only one who sees that Willow did a good thing here? How is killing Warren any different from staking vampires or beheading demons?”

“He’s human, Dawn,” Buffy said, reaching out to take her sister’s hand.

Dawn wasn’t having any of it and she pulled her hand away. “Oh, and that means that if he shot you, you wouldn’t die? That him killing Katrina was less bad?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it isn’t,” Giles agreed.

“What’s not simple about it? He was a bad guy. A killer.”

This time Buffy was not taking no for an answer. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and pulled her over to the bench. Sitting down, she was glad when Dawn did likewise. “It’s different for humans. You know that. There’s the police, the courts, jail. That’s where Jonathan and Andrew are right now. Magic isn’t the way. This is why we wanted Willow to stop in the first place. It’s dangerous.”

‘It’s different for humans.’ The words rang in Dawn’s ears. She didn’t say anything, though. Not like she wanted to remind anyone that she wasn’t really one of them. She sat on the bench, her hand still held tight by Buffy, and tried not to listen as Buffy and Giles kept talking about Willow like she was some terrible stranger.

“What happened?” Xander asked within seconds of entering the house. Not like it was hard to figure out that something was wrong – Willow was crying and Deadboy had his hands all over her. No, he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Willow was sleeping with the guy and he probably never would be.

“Warren’s dead,” Angel replied. Willow was still upset and he figured that the explaining was best left to him.

“Why is Willow crying?” Anya asked. “Warren being dead is a good thing, right?”

“I killed him,” Willow said softly, sitting up and trying to pull herself together. “I didn’t mean to, but…”

“He tried to kill Buffy,” Angel hastened to interject. “All Willow did was turn the bullet around.”

Unlike Anya, Xander got it. But that didn’t mean he disagreed with Anya…or Angel. “Will, you did the right thing. I mean, yeah, I know killing him was tough, but…”

“I did a spell…the bullet was just supposed to go back to his gun…” Willow was still caught up in the moment it had all gone wrong. Warren’s eyes swam before her own – wide and sightless. She was never going to forget those eyes…or the crackle of power as she’d taken the life from behind them. Even though she thought she hadn’t felt the darkness, it had been there – she knew that. That had to have been it. Otherwise, Warren wouldn’t have died.

Angel pulled her close again. “It’s not your fault,” he said gently. He wished his words would get through to her but they didn’t; he could feel her pain through her skin. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair. It didn’t matter, he supposed, since the words weren’t spoken by the voice she wanted to hear, but he had said them and someday maybe they’d mean something to her.

A moment later, it occurred to him that there was a line of reasoning he hadn’t tried yet, one with which she could not argue. “You were sent here for a reason – and that reason was to do exactly what you just did. The Powers That Be knew how hard this would be. That’s why Cordelia only saw…”

“The gun,” Xander finished. Angel was torn between annoyance and gratitude. The latter won. It would do Willow more good if they all presented a united front.

“Duh,” Anya said, wondering why they had to make this argument at all – and why anyone cared anyway. Warren was a loser and a dork. Even if he hadn’t tried to kill Buffy, he’d be better off dead. Not that she could say that out loud. All this crap about the sacredness of human life was chafing, but she was married to a human now – and was one again – so she was supposed to cheer for the home team no matter how lame they were. “I mean, if a simple shield spell would have done the trick, _Tara_ would have been sent a vision or something.”

For some reason, it was Anya’s words which penetrated the fog of Willow’s thoughts. The guilt remained, but maybe Anya had a point. Willow still ached inside, however. It felt like murder somehow, even if logically she knew she had only acted on instinct to save Buffy’s life.

Was that part of what she was feeling? Knowing that the life she saved belonged to a girl who might not even want it? Did Buffy still resent her for ripping her out of heaven?

She wished Spike were here. He was always so honest and direct and he understood things – had always been able to talk to her about her fear of the dark places inside. And she loved him.

Her head hurt – the aftereffects of powerful magic combined with painful emotions were doing their worst to her. She tried to stand up, but stumbled as she did, feeling woozy. Angel was there to steady her. “Be careful.”

The words struck her as funny, and she started laughing, but she caught herself – everyone was staring. “Sorry, it’s just…careful…and killing someone…”

“Oh! I get it,” Anya said, and she did, too, only Angel was glaring at her and she didn’t think saying more would be a good idea. He was Willow’s sex poodle now and she should probably get along with him.

Besides, Buffy was walking in and that was sure to cheer Willow up. Except… “Why do you look so depressed?” Anya asked. “Willow just saved your life.”

Buffy said nothing. There wasn’t any point. Anya might be technically human, but she thought like a demon; she’d never understand. But she and Giles had come to a decision outside and they needed to talk to Willow about it.

“Can you guys go outside?” She looked at Angel. “Or upstairs or something? Giles and I need to talk to Willow.”

Dawn rolled her eyes angrily. She knew what this was about and she thought it was ridiculous and stupid and wrong, but it wasn’t like she could stop the Buffy express when it was rolling, especially not when Giles was on board.

Giles put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder, offering support. This hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was the only choice. If only Willow would see it that way. “Yes, we have something very important…”

“I don’t think so.” Angel’s voice was cold steel. “If it concerns Willow, it concerns me.” The fact that she didn’t so much as give him a contrary look was heartening, but he stayed focused on Buffy and Giles.

Xander wanted to stay, too, but he took one look at Angel and decided that – as much as he still hated that guy – he would do the job of making sure nothing bad happened to her. It was probably better to let him do it alone. “Come on, An, Dawn. Let’s go outside and let them talk.”

Anya wanted to bring up the fact that the _last_ time they let Buffy have a private talk with Willow, she wound up shipping Willow off to Los Angeles, but… Angel was staying, so that would be different. She stayed silent and followed Xander to the back of the house, dragging a grumbling Dawn behind her.

“So, is this the part where you thank Willow for saving your life?” Angel had thought highly of Buffy, had still considered her a friend and a comrade-in-arms, but as of right now, he had no idea where she stood with him.

The look on Angel’s face cut Buffy to the core. “It’s not that simple,” she said through gritted teeth.

Giles spoke up. “Angel, she killed a man. With magic. No matter what her intentions were, you must see…”

“I see that she did what the Powers That Be intended be done. I see that she prevented at least one death. Who knows what else Warren would have done after killing Buffy?”

Willow just stood beside Angel, letting them all talk about her and not to her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about what she’d done – or more accurately, she had dozens of feelings about it but they were all at war with each other and she had no clue which ones were winning.

“I know that. But he was human.” Buffy had a point there.

“Was she supposed to wait till you were dead and then call the cops?” But then again, so did Angel.

“There were other things she could have done. A shield, perhaps.” Giles’s voice rang out its judgment.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said, deciding she needed to join the conversation after all. “I thought the bullet would go back into the gun. I said ‘home’. That’s all I said.”

Giles’s eyes softened as he looked at her. She was sincere, he knew that, and his heart filled with pity. But also hope. Such remorse…surely she would see what she needed to do. “I know. But the fact remains that Warren is dead. Willow, I know what Wesley and his contacts believe – what you were told – but after today I think we can all agree that they…well…they may have been wrong. Buffy and I spoke outside and… There are people I know – a coven. Excellent people. They can help you. They’ve helped those with problems like yours before. I…_we_…think you should go to them. Spend some time there…”

“No.” It was all Angel could do to keep his true face from emerging. “I can’t believe you. Willow was sent here by the Powers That Be to do exactly what she did. You buried Buffy not so long ago. That eager to haul your mourning clothes out of mothballs and do it again?”

Within seconds, the four of them were no longer alone in the room.

“Nice idea, the eavesdropping, An,” Xander whispered to his wife. There were times when honour was a waste. “Let’s all calm down now, shall we?” Xander’s voice was much louder this time and he hoped everyone was paying attention. That last remark of Angel’s was a guaranteed fight-starter and that wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

Giles glared at Angel, but said nothing, doing his best to rein in his emotions.

Buffy, on the other hand, was hurting. What Angel had just said was cold and heartless. If she’d needed any proof that he really did no longer love her… Well that was it, wasn’t it? But on the other hand… “This isn’t about me. This is about Willow. And her magic. And the fact that she obviously doesn’t have the control over it that she thought.”

She turned to Willow, hoping her friend would see the truth. “I love you, okay? All I want is what’s best for you. And what’s best for you is getting away from magic. You’ll see. Once you’re in England with the coven…”

“She’s not going.” Angel’s voice was tight and cold.

“I rather think that’s up to her, not you.” Giles said.

Dawn was about to say something, but Xander’s hand on her arm stopped her. Guess he was right…and Giles was right. This was up to Willow.

Looking into the eyes of Buffy and Giles, all Willow would see was fear and concern. Fear _of_ her and concern _for_ her. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was dangerous.

But she wasn’t going to England. She couldn’t leave Spike. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well and you think it’s what best but… I can’t go. Please understand. I’ll talk to people in L.A., okay?”

Anya was wondering why Willow was even buying into the idea she’d done anything wrong, but there was no point in arguing. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would listen to _her_. Well, Xander would; she would explain her thoughts to him later.

Buffy understood immediately what Willow’s main objection was and she acknowledged it. “I know you love Spike, but you have to realize that…”

“This is pointless and it’s getting us nowhere. We can go round and round for hours, but the fact remains that Willow will be going right back to Los Angeles where she belongs.” Angel turned to Xander. “Did you walk here or drive?”

Xander was taken by surprise by the seeming _non sequitur_. “We…uh…we drove. Well, Anya drove. I…”

“Get your car. Back it into the driveway as close as you can to the door and open the trunk. You’re driving us back to Willow’s house.”

“_I_ will,” Anya replied, wanting to make it clear that being Xander’s wife didn’t mean he was the boss of her…or her car. Then she raced out the door to move the car. She was almost looking forward to helping them escape. She could try out some of those driving moves from Xander’s favorite movies.

“Angel…” Willow wasn’t sure what was happening right now, but it felt final and it scared her. “Are you sure? I mean…”

“We’re going back to L.A. at sundown.” Looking around, he found the blanket Willow had slept under last night folded up next to the couch. “Mind if I borrow this, Dawn?”

“Sure. No problem,” Dawn said, suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out at Buffy. She still thought Angel was a jerk, but she kinda hated him less, at least for today. As glad as she was that Buffy was still alive, she was really mad at her sister right now.

“Dawn,” Buffy warned. “Stay out of this.”

“Buffy, how much more in this can I be? I’m your sister! And you wouldn’t be standing here right now if it weren’t for Willow. I get why you’re upset, at least I think I do, but I also get that it’s nowhere near as bad as you and Giles think it is.”

“I’m with Dawn on this one,” Xander said, his voice gentle to try to soften the blow of his defection.

If the look on Buffy’s face was any indication, if it had helped, it hadn’t helped much. “I’m not the bad guy here,” she said, her voice half tears and the other half ground glass.

“No. But that doesn’t mean you’re right, either,” Angel said.

Giles was about to say something when Anya burst through the door. “C’mon!” she nearly yelled. “I’ve got the engine running.”

At another time, the way Anya was turning all of this into an action movie would have made Xander laugh. Not today. “Guess that’s our cue to leave,” he said softly.

Angel pulled the blanket over himself and, holding tightly to Willow’s hand, raced outside to the car with Anya in the lead.

Xander walked over to Buffy and hugged her. “This is just me agreeing to disagree, okay?” And with that, he left to join the others.

The front door closed behind him and Buffy and Giles could only stand there watching as Dawn stomped up the stairs.

Willow was headed for disaster and it pained Giles to see that his best efforts had all been for naught. He was terrified for the girl. Whether she believed him or not, he cared deeply about her, and he wanted nothing more than to save her from tragedy. “That could have gone better,” he said, his voice far milder than his emotions.

“Yeah,” Buffy said, tears still fighting her steely control. “Do you think maybe we’re…?”

“Wrong? I wish I could believe that, but no, I don’t think...” It was hard to say, harder still to see Willow as dangerous, but the proof had been carried off to the county morgue not an hour ago.

His head swam with self-recrimination and regret. Years ago, when Willow had begun dabbling, why hadn’t he stopped her, reined her in somehow? He could have then. She listened to him, looked up to him. Why hadn’t he sat her down, laid out the story of his own fateful missteps in magic? There had been Eyghon, yes…and more.

He’d been afraid, he knew. Willow wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to stay on a pedestal. Look what his arrogance and fear had cost: Willow, who he’d somehow deluded himself into believing would never trod the same paths he did, had gone into darker places than he ever had. The memory of things he’d done still made him shiver after all these years. What agony would Willow carry with her after having done worse, after having tasted power beyond anything Giles had ever known?

Yet, even now, he couldn’t say any of that out loud.

He pulled Buffy into a heartfelt hug. “I _am_ glad you’re still with us,” he said.

“Me, too,” Buffy said. Her brain was twisting into a pretzel as she tried to process everything.

Death – loss – life. It was her holy trinity. It was part of being a Slayer. Especially life. Human life was sacred. Taking it was wrong. If she compromised – even once – it meant denying everything she was, everything her destiny commanded her to be, everything she knew was true and real and important.

She loved Willow; she did. But that didn’t mean she could give her best friend a license to kill. Besides, that wasn’t Willow; it had never _been_ Willow. The Willow she knew… That Willow could never have done this. It was the magic – and the magic was bad.

Or was it? She’d been so sure a few minutes ago, but now? Maybe everyone else was right and she and Giles were wrong – too caught up in black and white to see that this was a very grey situation. And if that was true… What had they done?

But what if they _were_ right and everyone else was wrong? What would happen to Willow? What would happen with her magic?

Buffy had no idea what to do. She and Giles stayed, silent and full of thought, in the living room for a long time.

Tbc…


	43. Chapter Forty-Two

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Two)

Spike changed the sheets quietly, wondering if he should bring some food up to the room or something. Would Willow be hungry? Would she even want to eat?

As eager as he’d been for Angel’s return, he wasn’t too happy about the way it came about. Hard on Willow, this. For all her power, the chit wasn’t really cut out for killing, and with the addition of Buffy and Giles coming down on her? She had to be in rough shape – maybe even rougher than Angel had told him.

There’d be no sex tonight, that was for sure, but she’d need to be held – reassured – and she’d need _him_. He’d helped her through her guilt about Holtz, after all; he could help her through this.

Amazing how easy the switch from desperately horny and longing for Angel to concerned friend worried about Willow had been, but there it was. She loved him and the least he could do was give a damn that she was in pain, even if it didn’t make a damn bit of sense.

She’d been the big hero: saved the Slayer; killed the bad guy. If her pals had just been on board with that scenario, she’d be all right, but no – Buffy and Giles had to be all holier than thou, which didn’t make one whit of sense considering the Slayer would be taking harp lessons again if it weren’t for Willow. Of course, maybe that was it. Buffy did go on a bit about how wonderful Heaven had been. Maybe all this ‘sacredness of human life’ bollocks was nothing more than petulance at not getting a free pass to slough off this mortal coil once more – at not getting to take a powder and forget about slinging hamburgers and slaying and giving a damn about anything.

Oh hell, whether he was right about the death wish or not, he knew full well that Buffy really did think that human life was so much more important. Oh sure, demons were all right as allies, and shagging them was no bad thing, but when it came down to… Better keep his own bitterness out of this, even if there was a certain elegant logic in _his_ argument that if you were all het up about life being sacred then life was life and if killing demon bad guys was okay, then killing human bad guys had to be as well.

Of course, being a demon did give him rather a different slant on things, seeing as how – up until he’d fallen into the hands of those Initiative bastards – humans had been food. But that didn’t make his argument wrong, now did it?

“Spike.” Wesley’s voice startled him. Imagine being so far off his game that he hadn’t noticed the approach of a human…and one wearing cologne at that.

“Guess Angel told you what happened as well.”

“Yes. Yes, he did, and…“ Wesley had no idea what to say. He felt almost guilty, though he could not begin to say why. If only he could have done a better job of explaining the truth about Willow and her abilities… But it wasn’t as if he could have said a single word to which Rupert Giles would have listened.

“Looks like Red’s bridges are well and truly burned. Nice reward that is for saving Buffy’s life, but then again, not like…” Spike stopped, not wanting to divulge anything that might reveal his own humiliating past with the bitch. “Never mind. Just tidying things up a bit.”

Wesley was curious about what Spike had been about to say, but he had no intention of prying. He and Spike had forged a tentative friendship during Angel’s absence and he found that he rather liked it. He was hardly of a mind to jeopardize it with presumptuous questions. “I just wanted to say that I was going home for the night. I’ll make sure the others stay out of your way tomorrow. I would imagine Willow will benefit from some privacy, Angel as well, for that matter.”

He was about to conclude with ‘good night’ and leave when he decided to say more. “I must say that…well…they were treated badly. I wish… Sadly, I can’t claim I didn’t half expect it from Giles. He has always had the wrong approach when it comes to Willow’s magic. But Buffy… I had always believed her friendship with Willow to be such a close one. Of course, lately…” His words, like his thoughts, were disorganized, but the look on Spike’s face made him glad he’d said them. “I’m glad they have you.”

What he said next was as much of a shock to himself as it could ever be to Spike. “I know that my attitude towards the relationship you three have wasn’t as accepting as it should have been and I apologize for that.” He cleared his throat and collected himself. “At any rate, I am, as I said, going home. Tell Willow she has my support, would you?” And with that, he turned on his heel and made a rapid departure.

Spike sat down heavily on the bed. The old cliché ‘could have knocked me over with a feather’ came to mind and it certainly fit. Guess they were really mates now or something. One more difference between L.A. and Sunnydale – and maybe part of the reason he’d stay here, putting up with being second best in Angel’s bed, forever and a day. There was something about being accepted... It wasn’t something he’d ever really thought about before, but he remembered the ache he’d felt back in Sunnydale and he understood it better now. He had friends here – real ones, apparently, and not just Willow.

Willow. If only he could feel more for that one. But it wasn’t going to be. Still, he owed her the best he could do as a friend, so he headed downstairs to see if there was any food he knew she favoured left in the kitchen. Like it or not, he was going to see to it she ate something. With all the crying she was sure to do, she’d need nourishment.

The car was parked behind the Hyperion, but neither Angel nor Willow made a move to get out yet.

“Are you sure? You don’t think I’ll hurt Connor?” Willow had been going back and forth like this on the whole drive. Angel would reason with her, think she’d seen the truth, and then a minute later, she’d be questioning herself all over again. If he didn’t love her and didn’t understand the strain she was under, it would have driven him crazy.

“Willow…”

“I know.” She took a breath. “And I know I didn’t freak out afterwards and go on a killing spree. It’s just…”

“Warren’s dead and it’s hard. I understand.” He took her hand, and she hated herself for wishing Spike was here. But Spike wouldn’t euphemize things. He’d have said ‘you killed him’ and somehow that would have been better.

And now she hated herself all the more for being unfair to Angel. Maybe that wasn’t as big a sin as murder, but still, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. Even less right was that it was thinking of Spike that made her finally want to get out of the car. “Let’s go in,” she said softly.

It was a terrible thing that Angel could tell who Willow was thinking of at this very moment, but he gave no indication of it to her. Instead, he got out of the car and went around to her side. At least she had grown accustomed to waiting for him to open the door for her.

“Of course she’ll be all right.” Anya had said the same thing to Xander about four hundred times…and that wasn’t a figure of speech. She’d actually started counting a few hours ago. She’d know exactly had she thought to start counting the very first time she said it but she hadn’t realized she’d have to say it so many… Who was she kidding? She needed to say it almost as much as Xander needed to hear it. Because Willow was very, very sad.

That was just wrong as far as Anya was concerned, and she felt partly to blame. If she hadn’t been one of the ones who’d convinced Willow she was a dangerous junkie in the first place…not that her opinion probably meant all that much to Willow at the time or anything, but it had still been the wrong thing to do and she wished she hadn’t done it. She should have known what was really going on with Willow’s magic. Obviously, being human had screwed up her instincts. Thanks, D’Hoffryn. See if you get a fruitcake this Yule.

Xander reached over and took Anya’s hand – again. He stared around the apartment, at all the things they owned, and he realized that it wasn’t the comfortable furniture or his comic book collection that made it home – it was Anya. He just wished Willow had this. Because what she had with Spike and Angel? Not even close. That wasn’t fair. No one he knew deserved this kind of love more than Willow did. But instead she had Oz, who cheated on her and abandoned her; Tara, who abandoned her; and Spike, who pimped her to Angel so he could hop in the sack with them, too.

How scary was it that he actually hated Spike more than Angel? And that he was even kind of okay with Angel right now? At least Deadboy really did care about Willow. But he wasn’t the one his best friend was tearing her heart out over. “It’s more than the magic, An.”

“I know,” Anya responded, resisting the urge to say ‘duh.’ Sooner or later, Willow would realize that killing Warren wasn’t nearly the big deal Buffy and Giles seemed to think it was – and on the subject of Giles, his attitude was making it hard to be as happy he was back as she wanted to be – but what wasn’t going to get better was what would happen if Buffy ever found out what was going on with Willow and Spike and Angel. As badly as she was handling Willow saving her life - which made sense to Anya only because it was Buffy, who always had to be the hero - just think how badly she'd take it when she found out that Angel obviously thought Willow was much better in bed than she was and that Willow was getting more sex than Buffy had probably ever had in her whole life.

Anya’s head hurt. She laid it on Xander’s shoulder. “I know,” she said again, but softly and gently. She had a guy she loved who loved her and wasn't the ex-boyfriend of a Slayer who was still pining over him…and he was a Viking in bed. She was lucky – much luckier than Willow.

The door to Angel’s room opened, but this time Spike wasn’t startled. He’d been paying attention and his ears had picked up footsteps long before Angel and Willow finally entered.

Looking at Willow’s tear-blotched face, Spike wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “Hello, pet.” Guess that was as good as anything. For once, the clench in his gut that always happened when he saw Angel gaze at Willow with so much love was subsumed by something more powerful – compassion. “Brought some food up for you. Thought you might be hungry.” He indicated the plate with the corned beef sandwich and potato chips sitting next to the can of Coke on the table.

“Thanks.” Willow found herself almost smiling. Thoughtfulness from Spike – it was cheering and she had a hard time not getting her hopes up. Of course, the way he was trying not to look at Angel right now helped shoot them down. “I guess I probably should eat something, huh?”

She sat down at the table, surprised to find herself almost gulping down the sandwich. She hadn’t even realized she was hungry at all. She’d only started eating because it would have been rude not to.

Angel’s eyes were fixed on Willow, but he spoke to Spike. “This was nice of you.” It hurt when he turned and saw the look in Spike’s eyes. The boy was hungry, too, and always would be since Angel couldn’t feed that appetite.

Spike shrugged. “Saw to the… Connor, too.” He decided tonight was too serious for his usual distancing sobriquets.

“I knew you’d take care of my son.”

At least Angel sounded grateful; that was something, Spike supposed. “You’d think Giles would be glad his precious Slayer is alive, wouldn’t you.”

Spike’s voice was soft, but in spite of his efforts, Willow heard and turned her head. “He was just…”

“Jealous because you’ve got more mojo in your little finger than he has in his whole dried-up body.” Guess now was as good a time as any to say out loud what he’d thought for quite some time.

Frankly, Angel could not have agreed more. He wasn’t sure that Willow was ready to hear it, though.”He doesn’t understand,” he said, splitting the difference.

Willow spoke up before this could devolve into a tirade about her old friends. “Can we just maybe not talk about this right now?” She’d been wrong when she thought she’d wanted to talk about what happened with anyone, even Spike. The last thing she needed was the two of them running Giles down. Because it wasn’t what Giles and Buffy thought that hurt the most tonight. What hurt the most was the vision of Warren’s dead eyes that wouldn’t leave her mind.

Spike could tell what she was thinking, but he stepped back and let Angel be the one to go to her. She was vulnerable now. Too much attention from him and she’d get all the wrong ideas. However disappointed she might be in the short term, this was what was best for her. And yeah, he hated himself for it, but he was also currying favour with Angel.

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Angel said, putting a hand on Willow’s shoulder and another under her chin, tilting it up and looking into her eyes.

“Thanks,” she said, wishing the eyes looking into hers were Spike’s. But at least she was off the hook for now.

Angel let go and she got up, fighting the urge to close her eyes against the memories that just wouldn’t go away. She didn’t want to talk or think or anything and there was only one way to avoid that. She pulled Angel’s head down to hers and kissed him.

It was a hungry kiss – full of desperate need, too much need for her to share it with Spike. It already hurt too much that he didn’t feel for her any of what she felt for him. So she opened herself to Angel and prayed that she wasn’t hurting _him_ by doing so.

Spike was shocked by what he was witnessing. Not for a moment had he thought there’d be anything but sleeping going on in Angel’s bed tonight. But then again, maybe he should have seen this after all. He and Willow were more alike than he was comfortable with and he knew what dulled the pain even better than whiskey. He was a bit surprised she’d started with Angel, but then again… Yeah, he knew her – knew she didn’t need that ‘second best’ feeling right now, not after what she’d been through. Couldn’t say that he blamed her, now could he?

It was heaven holding Willow like this, but not the kind of heaven where he’d lose his soul. For all he wished it were different, Angel knew that what Willow wanted tonight didn’t have anything to do with love. She wanted to get lost, to drown in sensation so thick that the nightmares couldn’t get through. He could give her that – _would_ give her that…and so would Spike.

Stopping their kiss, he began to undress her. “Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded vigorously, her hands working the buttons of his shirt.

Time to join the party, Spike thought, shucking his shirt and moving behind Willow. His hands found her breasts and his mouth moved over her neck. He’d almost forgotten the taste of her skin – warm and sweet and salty, though her pain was mixed into it now. There was a time he’d have found that intoxicating; now it just made him sad. His eyes moved up, caught Angel’s. They shared a look, an acknowledgment. Tonight was all about Willow.

It seemed like only seconds had passed, but it had to have been longer. They were all together now, on the bed, Angel thrusting into her so aggressively that it should have hurt. Maybe it did, but the pain in her heart was all she could feel. She wasn’t escaping at all.

Spike could see the anguish and tears in Willow’s eyes as she fucked Angel for all she was worth. It was hard to see her so lost and he wished he could disembowel the Powers That Be for getting her into this mess to begin with. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Give it to us, love. Let us take the pain.”

Angel heard Spike’s words and echoed them. “That’s right, sweetheart. Just let it go.” He didn’t want to think about whose voice had gotten through, instead letting himself be consumed by his own release as Willow at last shattered – screaming out her pleasure – beneath him.

Tbc…


	44. Chapter Forty-Three

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Three)

  
“I hate to say it, but… No wait, I actually don’t hate to say it at all: I told you so.”

All her time as a seer had done nothing for Cordelia’s tact and diplomacy and Wesley responded with a heavy sigh. Sadly, she was right; she had indeed foreseen Buffy’s reaction to having her life preserved by Willow, if not the specific reasons for that reaction. “Be that as it may, I think it would be best if you were to refrain from conveying those sentiments to Willow or…”

“Angel. I get it, okay? It’s not like they haven’t suffered enough. I still can’t believe Giles wanted to ship Willow off somewhere just because she… But what am I thinking? Of course he would. He and his precious Slayer both think that the best way to deal with difficulty is to either run from it or pack it up and Fed Ex it somewhere else. And I’m still trying to figure out why they think it’s so terrible that Willow saved Buffy’s life anyway.”

Again Wesley found himself hard-pressed to disagree with a single word spoken by Cordelia. He was still furious with Giles for all the years that man had paid lip service to mentoring Willow and as for Buffy…well, to be brutally frank, he’d never held her in as high of regard as everyone else did, not that he would ever give voice to his opinion. Perhaps he was old-fashioned, but Buffy owed far more of her success to others than was appropriate for a Slayer and the fact that she’d already died twice spoke to the folly of calling her the longest-lived Slayer on record. Were it not for Willow and, if his memory of what he’d been told was accurate, Xander Harris, Buffy would be in whatever place the souls of Slayers went upon their deaths.

“It is rather inexplicable.” And that was putting it politely. But Wesley thought it best to choose his words carefully and not fuel Cordelia’s fire. She had a tendency to get louder as she became more passionate on a subject and he hardly thought that the others needed to hear her.

Inexplicable? Was that the best Wesley could do? Of course, he’d been too busy drooling over _her_ back in Sunnydale to see what a self-centered bitch Buffy was, but you’d still think he could come up with a harsher word than ‘inexplicable’ for the crap Buffy had just put Willow through, even if it wasn’t the least bit surprising if you knew about Buffy. She was probably just pissed off that Willow had shown her up. Not like Buffy was mature enough to share the spotlight. “Yeah, well, all I know is that after Willow saved _my_ life, I was a lot more…”

“Grateful.” Angel’s voice startled Wesley as well as Cordelia.

“I’m very sorry about the way things turned out,” Wesley said, accepting Angel’s nod as a reply. “We don’t have any pressing cases at the moment so you and Willow can take all the time you need to…well…all the time you need.” It struck him how much more awkward he felt with Angel than with Spike and it was strange. He’d known Angel for far longer; the two had worked side by side for years now and yet… Yes, bizarre though it might be, in a matter of days he’d formed a friendship with Spike that was far more comradely than anything he shared with Angel.

“Thank you.” Angel appreciated how well Wesley ran the agency. It gave him as much peace of mind as anything could right now.

“How is she, anyway?” Cordelia asked.

“As well as can be expected,” Angel said, hoping that she would just take that and leave well enough alone. He should have known better.

“What does that mean?” Cordelia’s voice was high and shrill and she saw Wesley wince. She didn’t care. Willow was her friend and she had as much right to know what was going on with her as Angel did. “Did anybody there even stand up for her?” She gave Angel no time to respond as she answered her own question. “What am I saying? Of course not. It’s not like Xander would ever get his head out of Buffy’s ass long enough to…”

“He did,” Angel interrupted. As much as he disliked the boy, he was grateful enough for his discretion and his support of Willow to defend him on this score. “He took Willow’s side.”

Cordelia’s mouth hung open and she seemed at a loss for words. Of course that didn’t last. “Well, it’s about time, that’s all I can say.”

Angel wasn’t interested in taking the time to see if that truly _was_ all she could say. “I came down to get some food for Willow,” he said. “Let me know if there’s an emergency.” Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

Spike was still stretched across the bed when Willow came out of the bathroom. She was surprised, but the shower really had made her feel better. So had last night. Both had helped clear her head, chase away the nightmares and leave…something closer to truth.

Was she sorry she’d killed Warren? Of course she was. Unlike Buffy, she wasn’t entirely sure that humans were automatically above demons, but that didn’t mean that her best friend’s thinking hadn’t rubbed off on her morality and emotions to some degree.

Warren had been about to kill Buffy, though, and that…well, that had to make his death a lot less like murder and a lot more like justifiable homicide than Buffy and Giles saw it.

Why was that? Because, sure, maybe killing humans wasn’t strictly kosher, but it wasn’t like she was the only one who’d ever killed anyone. Okay, Buffy hadn't actually killed a human, but she had _tried_ to. She’d been completely willing to kill Faith and then have Angel drain her blood. That counted, didn't it? How was that different from Willow unwittingly sending a bullet into Warren’s chest?

“Penny for ‘em,” Spike said, knowing by the look on Willow’s face that there were wheels within wheels turning behind those wide green eyes.

He could tell she was about to try to evade any questions he had, but he knew her too damn well to let her off the hook, so he headed her off at the pass. “Don’t tell me you’re still worrying your head about that Warren bastard. Good riddance as far as I can see. Besides, self defense is self defense. Not like he wasn’t gonna shoot you after he shot Buffy. He was pathetic, but he wasn’t stupid. Leaving witnesses? I don’t think so.”

You know, that second point of Spike’s was good, too. Self-preservation was no bad thing, Willow decided, and yeah, Warren probably would have shot her after he’d gunned down Buffy. Also, there _was_ the fact that Cordelia’s vision had in fact instructed her to be there. Which meant Angel was right as well – she was supposed to do what she did.

That didn’t make the vision of Warren’s dead eyes go away, though. “I still wish I hadn’t had to do it.”

“Course ya do, pet. You’ve always been ridiculously softhearted. One of these days you’ll come around.” Even as Spike said it, he hoped that day never came. He rather liked that goody two shoes quality of hers. It made her who she was…and who he would have been had not Cecily and Drusilla and Angelus conspired to take it all away. Not that he regretted that, mind, but there was still enough William buried inside him to want to see the goodness preserved in Willow.

Sitting down on the bed, Willow suddenly noticed the fact that Spike was naked and she coloured. Weird, yes, considering the fact that a few hours ago they’d had wild sex, but it was somehow different seeing him all nude in daylight. Not like…

Tara. One more thing Willow felt guilty about. She’d meant to…okay, maybe ‘meant to’ was a little more definite than accurate, but she’d _thought about_ sitting down with her and apologizing and maybe even telling her the whole truth. Tara deserved that. Recalling the kindness and understanding in Tara’s eyes when she’d performed the glamour, Willow amended that: Tara more than deserved honesty – she was owed it. What hurt was that Willow didn’t know when she’d have the courage to give it to her.

Spike sat up and she let him put his arm around her. “Angel will be back soon,” he said. Willow just nodded and laid her head on his shoulder.

Giles hung up the phone with a pain in his chest that he almost feared foretold a heart attack.

Buffy’s voice cut through the anguished fog of his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m very much afraid that _we_ may have been,” he replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I just got off the phone with the leader of the coven and… Wesley seems to have been right all along. There have been…signs or portents and… They say they would have felt it had Willow turned dark. I’m afraid I didn’t press for an explanation. But the fact remains that Willow was probably indeed acting in the service of the Powers That Be.”

Buffy felt the floor drop from under her feet – or something a whole lot like that. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t really feel her legs anymore. She was trying to wrap her mind around even a part of what Giles was saying but it wasn’t working too well. “But…but he was human” was all she could say.

“I know.” But what bothered Giles more was how easily he’d characterized what Willow had done as evil. He of all people should have known better than to see things entirely in black and white…and known better than to have lost faith in Willow’s goodness as well.

And again it seemed to come back to his own dark past, his own fears… his own deficiencies. But his greatest fear? That would be that much of his reaction was due to envy.

What would it be like, he wondered, to simply hold out one’s hand, cry out a single word, and end a man’s life? He’d never wielded such power, not even in the days of Ethan Rayne and Eyghon. He’d told himself later that power like that was a bad thing, but… But the truth was that somewhere inside himself he still longed to know what ultimate power would feel like, coursing through his veins, burning in his blood. He would never know.

But Willow did.

Buffy waited for Giles to say something more, but he didn’t. He didn’t offer any reassurance, didn’t tell her that they’d had all the right reasons, that Willow going over to the dark side was a conclusion anyone would have jumped to. No, he just looked like someone had died. His face was grey and sad and frightening.

What had they done? Because they’d been right, or at least right to _think_ they were right, right? “She’s not evil, is she.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, it appears not.”

“And I probably should have thanked her for saving my life instead of treating her like a cold-blooded killer and trying to ship her out of the country.”

Giles said nothing. Buffy would have cried if she could have figured out how, but somehow nothing seemed to be working – not even the part of her that had been so sure about right and wrong only a short while ago. It seemed like when it came to Willow, she always seemed to get it wrong. Things didn’t used to be this way, did they?

She thought back to when she used to complain behind Willow’s back about how long it was taking her to get over Oz and she realized that maybe they had after all.

Now the tears came and Giles pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said uselessly.

“I know.”

“We have to fix this.” She wished she knew why she always seemed to screw up in the first place, but for now, apologizing and trying to undo the damage would have to do. “I think we should go to Los Angeles, talk to her.”

Oh dear. “Buffy, I’m not sure that’s the best…”

Buffy interrupted. “Angel told me about his son.”

What? “He did?”

“Yeah, the day we saw the video of him and… Anyway, we talked and he told me he has a son. Which I sort of thought you might know and you confirmed that just now.”

“I’m sorry. I had every intention of telling you, it just never seemed to be the right time.”

“It’s okay,” she said, taking his hand. “I get why you didn’t tell me. I am still trying to digest it, you know? It’s not like I’ve ever heard of vampires having kids before.” Funny how nearly dying was somehow not as difficult to process as Angel having a son…with someone who wasn’t her. “So, does this mean we’re going to L.A.?”

Giles took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes, this means that tomorrow we are going to Los Angeles.”

“I’ll only be gone for a little while. I need to pick up some food and stuff, okay?”

Angel wanted to suggest she give the shopping list to Cordelia, but he had no idea if his seer would have any idea how to find lox trimmings, so he supposed Willow would have to go. Besides, he knew she could get irritated by his protective ways. “Be careful,” he said as she walked out the door.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Spike said when he figured she was out of earshot. It burned, watching the way Angel’s eyes never left the door.

“Yeah.” Angel sounded both annoyed and dismissive – pretty much the usual. “Thanks for taking care of Connor,” he added.

It wasn’t as gracious as Spike had imagined it would be, not given the way Angel had handed over the care of his son to him. But that was the difference between riding off with the fair damsel and bringing her back, he reckoned.

“You’re welcome.” The terse sentences and the attitude weren’t going to faze him. Changing the subject might be good. He had questions and the bastard he loved was going to have a conversation with him whether he liked it or not. “What all happened in home, sweet Hellmouth, anyway?”

Angel was caught off-guard by Spike’s question. He’d expected to be dodging sexual banter and Spike’s hands, not talking about Sunnydale. “It was… Well, at least Buffy knows about Connor now.”

“What?” Spike exclaimed with a laugh. “You told her? And the bint didn’t stake you?”

“She may have been distracted by finding out how I feel about Willow.”

“You always were a risk taker, but…”

“I didn’t tell her that part. Warren and the others, they caught us on camera.”

A frisson of fear went down Spike’s spine. “You and Willow?” Was it possible that they could…?

“No, not like that. But they caught us together outside the house. The way I was looking at her…they guessed.”

Why didn’t that surprise Spike? Oh yeah – that would be because Angel was so bloody obvious that Helen Keller could tell how he felt about Willow. “Guess it’s a good thing she doesn’t know the rest, or does she?”

“She doesn’t. Xander and Anya do, though.”

“Leave it to demon girl to figure out anything to do with sex.”

“She didn’t. Willow told Xander.”

“Now I _really_ don’t know how you managed to avoid gettin’ turned into a big pile o’ dust.”

Angel had to admit Spike had a point. He chuckled. “Willow’s magic, I suppose.”

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Spike was serious again and it was disconcerting. “You know, I wish I could feel the same way about her that you do.”

“Why don’t you?” Even as he asked it, Angel was grateful that Spike didn’t love her.

“Don’t know.” Of course he was lying about that, but it wasn’t like Spike was going to say that it was because Willow was too much like him – or rather, too much like William. Angel would never understand; he’d think it was a ploy. Besides, no way in hell the bastard would see it no matter how hard he looked. “But don’t worry, it’s never going to happen. I’ll never take her away from you.” No use declaring his love to Angel. They both knew how he felt.

Angel didn’t respond to Spike’s reassurance. He wasn’t going to take the chance he’d reveal just how much he feared Spike doing exactly that – taking Willow away. Spike might think he knew, but for Angel to actually confirm it would shift more power away from himself and that wasn’t anything Angel was inclined to do. Besides, after everything he and Willow had been through together in Sunnydale… Maybe she didn’t love him, but it was possible she cared enough about him not to want to leave him either, even if Spike someday returned her feelings. So, instead of addressing Spike’s comment, he said, “I’m going to spend some time with my son.” Then he walked out of the bedroom and left Spike alone.

Tbc…


	45. Chapter Forty-Four

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Four)

  
After Willow Rosenberg defeated them with her light show, Angel might have thought he was done with Wolfram and Hart. He was, of course, entirely wrong.

Lilah Morgan wore a sardonic half-smile as she sat in front of her computer. Extending one perfectly-manicured finger, she hit the ‘Send’ button and her smirk was augmented by a glint in her eyes and a victorious straightening of her posture. Call her petty, criticize her for making this personal; none of that mattered. She was going to enjoy this.

While Angel might have succeeded in foiling most of her efforts against him, she’d like to see him get out of this one. Sure, it had cost her some money – though that shapeshifter and his trashy wife hadn’t driven too hard of a bargain – and it didn’t offer the benefits to the firm and thus to her career that taking Angel’s son would have, but sometimes, she mused, it wasn’t about the prize – it was all about the winning.

She’d lost the coin toss – when it was time to decide who drove on the way back, they were so doing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ – and so Buffy sat in the passenger seat while Giles drove the speed limit and obeyed all the traffic laws as they headed off to Los Angeles to make things right with Willow.

Neither of them had even tried to turn on the radio. Not like they’d agree on what to listen to anyway and besides, Buffy was feeling too serious for music. She needed to think and try to figure out what to say. She had a feeling it was probably going to be something along the lines of ‘Sorry I was such an ungrateful bitch. Is it too late to thank you for saving my life?’ with a ‘Sorry I tried to send you away for black magic detox you didn’t actually need’ thrown in for good measure. All she had to do after that was pray to every god and goddess she’d ever heard of that Willow would accept her apology.

Like her luck these days was ever that...

Oh no. She’d forgotten to check her email to see if the late payment for her internet service had gotten there in time to keep them connected. If Dawn got home from school and couldn't get online, she was never going to shut up about it. Great. Was this an official bad omen or could it maybe just be all of Buffy's bad luck for the day getting taken care of so now everything else would be fine? God how she hoped it was the latter. Because more than anything, what she needed was all the good luck there could possibly be to make sure that when she returned to Sunnydale, she once again had a best friend named Willow.

Buffy was uncharacteristically quiet, Giles thought, but he wasn’t going to try to force her into conversation. She appeared deep in thought. As he was, for that matter.

He’d come back to make things right and it seemed as if he’d done nothing but make things worse, blundering into delicate situations with all the wrong ideas, hurting the ones he cared for most. Willow might be able to forgive him one day, but could he forgive himself? More to the point, _should_ he?

Best to focus on the road. He almost missed the interchange.

After a rather adrenaline-producing maneuver across three lanes of traffic, he reached over and put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said. She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t believe him. That was all right. Neither did he.

Dawn sat on the couch, letting Tara braid her hair. Okay, technically, she was cutting school, but what Buffy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right? Not like Tara was going to rat her out when Xander and Anya showed up to babysit. “Thanks for coming over,” she said. It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun cutting school and being all by herself and besides, she wanted to know how Tara was handling stuff since Willow and Angel had been back. It had to suck watching the Anne Rice reject drool all over her ex. Just remembering Angel’s longing glances at Willow made Dawn heave so she could only imagine how Tara was feeling.

There was the killing thing, too. It wasn’t like she and Tara had really had a chance to talk about what happened and Buffy had been the one to tell her. And that was _before_ Buffy finally got a clue, so who knew what Tara was thinking what with Buffy being all paranoid and ‘humans rule’ and ‘Willow + magic = bad’ before Giles actually bothered to _call_ the stupid coven he’d wanted to send Willow off to like she was some Faith-wannabe being exiled to military school.

And no, Dawn wasn’t the least bit bitter about the fact that neither of them had bothered to acknowledge that, once again, she had been right and they’d been wrong, wrong, wrong.

Moments passed and Tara watched Dawn think while she patiently worked her hair into two even plaits. Did Dawn know that her face changed expression with each thought? It was startling how unguarded she was.

It was easy to watch that face and let memories take her back…back to when Buffy was dead and Tara and Willow had cared for Dawn. How it had almost been like being parents. It was funny how rosy and beautiful those days looked now even though she knew they’d been anything but. Yet, for all the memories of grief and danger, a part of her wished they could go back and do it all differently – let Buffy stay dead, find another way to defend the town. The Hellmouth might never have gotten so far into Willow; they might still be together

They might be happy.

“Is she okay?” Tara asked at last, not wondering for a moment if Dawn would know who she meant.

Dawn’s heart almost broke. Again she asked herself how Willow could leave someone as sweet and loving as Tara…although, yeah, Spike was pretty hot…and cool…and sort of sweet, too, when he wanted to be…but Tara…_Tara_…Tara was perfect. So no, Dawn still didn’t understand. “Yeah. I mean she was pretty upset about killing Warren and all, even though she had to or he’d have killed Buffy. Actually, I think she was more upset with the way Buffy and Giles went all high and mighty on her. I mean Buffy didn’t even say thank you or anything.” Dawn was still on Willow’s side on that point because, hello, she saved Buffy’s _life_. And yeah, the Tara-dumping thing aside, Dawn still loved Willow.

“I wish I’d been here,” Tara said softly. That was almost true except that she wasn’t sure she could have handled watching Willow kill…and then watch her go through the grief without being the one to comfort her. Dawn hadn’t said anything, but Tara knew that job had been done by Angel and the thought of him holding Willow made her sick. “M-maybe I could have made them see…”

“I don’t think anyone could have,” Dawn said. “Giles was all ready to ship her off to some coven for lockdown rehab and he hadn’t even talked to the people he was going to send her to. Oh, and get this – those people? They were the ones who told him what an idiot he was when he finally _did_ call them.”

Tara giggled. She couldn’t help it. Dawn had such a way of putting things. Somehow she didn’t think anyone with the coven had used the word ‘idiot’. “I’m glad he knows the truth now.”

“Me, too. Although if they had just listened to me in the first place... Hello! I totally knew it wasn’t black magic. She didn’t get all weird and giggly like in the alley that night. She was just plain old, normal Willow – except for being in shock and then crying. But still, totally normal shock and crying.”

Curiosity almost made Tara ask Dawn if she knew more about the spell Willow had used, but Dawn hadn’t actually been there at the moment Warren died, so she didn’t think Dawn would be much help. Surprisingly, she was wrong, because the next thing she knew, Dawn was talking again.

“All she did was say ‘home’. She was trying to send the bullet back into the gun, but instead it went right into his heart. Pow! Splat!”

Tara was almost distracted by Dawn’s dramatic gestures as she reenacted Warren’s death, but not quite. Was that really all Willow had done? The power…

Just a couple of years ago, Willow had been a novice, struggling with anything more difficult than the levitation of small objects. Only when she and Tara did spells together was she able to truly make them work. Now? Now Willow wielded a magical force beyond anything Tara could conceive. She’d known that before, but this new piece of evidence still stunned her. Should she have foreseen what Willow had become? Maybe. But in her own defense, it seemed like so many significant events had happened out of her presence – it made them hard to fit into the picture of the girl she loved. Still, a girl whose first major spell was the ensouling of a vampire… Yes, Tara should have known and known long before Buffy’s resurrection.

If she had known, she might have realized… And she wouldn’t have done anything differently, even if she’d had an inkling that it would all end in tears. For all the pain she was still feeling, she didn’t regret loving Willow. She’d do it all again.

“Are you okay?” Tara looked lost and Dawn worried. She hated it when Tara was sad.

“I’m fine.” Tara smiled and Dawn hoped she meant it. “Guess what I brought?” Dawn watched excitedly as Tara pulled a familiar pink bag out of her purse. Goody. Her favorite bakery. “Chocolate chip cookies.”

“Cookies!” And with that, thoughts of anything but sugary goodness went away. At least for awhile.

“Remember to act surprised,” Willow admonished Spike for what he figured was the thirtieth time.

“Yeah, I got it.” He made no effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Why were those worthless buggers coming here at all? “I’ll put on a good show. But you better not expect me to be nice to them. I’ve had enough of them both to last a lifetime…and I mean _my_ lifetime, not yours.”

“Spike,” Angel snapped, despite the fact that he felt even less joy at the prospect of their visitors’ arrival than Spike did. He had a feeling it didn’t augur well for Willow’s happiness. Oh how he hoped he was wrong, though.

“What? You can’t tell me you’re singing a happy tune at the prospect of those buggers invading our home.”

Willow had to admit she understood how Spike felt and she knew that, for all his seeming acceptance, Angel wasn’t any happier about the visit. It was hard to blame them, but as for her… Buffy and Giles were family, more family than her parents had ever been. Yes, they’d hurt her, and had done so even before what had just happened, but she loved them and knowing that they wanted to make things right… It meant everything to her.

It also meant that she felt guiltier than ever about the one secret she could never share – the complete truth about her relationship with Spike and Angel. Guiltier still that it was a secret she hoped with all her heart would never, ever be revealed to them.

Angel knew by the look on Willow’s face what she was thinking; he moved behind her and put his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “They won’t learn anything more than they already know.”

“Yeah, since Peaches did such a bang-up job of concealing his feelings in Sunnydale, we can certainly trust him to maintain the same level of discretion and sleep safe knowing they’ll never figure out he’s shagging us both eight ways from Sunday.”

It was all Angel could do not to slap the boy for his insolence, but he settled instead for a logical rebuttal. “It’s the fact that they know how I feel about Willow,” he gave her name a subtle emphasis that nonetheless would not be lost on Spike, “that assures they won’t figure out the rest.”

No arguing with that, he supposed, though Spike wished he could just for the ducks of it. Anger was the most real heat he ever got out of Angel, even when they were in bed. “You might have a point there,” he grudgingly admitted.

And through it all, Angel never let go of Willow. For the umpteenth time, Spike wished things weren’t so bloody complicated. Willow wasn’t the only one feeling guilty right now. It had been awhile since he’d felt it so keenly, but now here it was – regret at having dragged her into this mess. Girl might have been better off if he’d just turned around and gone right back to Sunnydale the day he dropped her off. She’d be with Tara, he reckoned. Okay, that was a bit of a dismal thought, seeing as they’d made the dullest couple ever, but she’d seemed happy enough with it and at least Tara returned her love – such as it was.

Now look at Willow – pining for him while he pined for Angel and used her to get Angel to shag him, too. Topping it all off, this whole mess had cost..well…her _life_, or at least the life she’d always known. Sure, he usually managed to convince himself that, for all the drama and pain, she was still better off away from those losers and from the monotony of being Buffy’s sidekick, but what if he was wrong?

Bloody hell. Not only was he in love with Angel, he was starting to think like the brooding bastard as well.

“Anyone mind if I pop off to have a drink before our callers arrive?” Spike didn’t give them to answer. “No? Thought not.” Before either Willow or Angel could object, he was out of Angel’s suite and on his way back to his old room. He wasn’t going to get drunk, mind, but a glass or two of whiskey seemed well in order.

Anya stood behind the counter at the Magic Box. Strangely, she wasn’t bothered by the fact that no one was in her store spending money. Instead, she was all tangled up in worrying about what was going to happen to Willow when Buffy and Giles got to Los Angeles.

See? This was exactly the kind of thing that had made being a Vengeance Demon so attractive. You didn’t worry about your friends. Well, you didn’t _have_ any friends, but that wasn’t the point – the not worrying was the point. Because worrying was bad enough when you were worried about things you could do something about, like making more money or trying a new position to keep your husband interested enough that he wouldn’t look at that heavily made-up, predatory, and very obviously slutty girl who delivered coffee to the construction site or…

But again, not the point. This time the point was that what really sucked was worrying about things you couldn’t do anything about – like making sure that Buffy didn’t find out that Willow and Angel were sex bunnies. Not like Buffy had been super stable since Willow brought her back from the dead. She was sure to react badly to finding out that Angel could be as happy as he wanted as long as he was boning someone who didn’t make him forget he was a demon, like…oh…a _Slayer_ would, for instance. Anya wouldn’t say anything, and Xander wouldn’t either, but secrets had this annoying way of coming out all the time, especially Willow’s secrets.

There was also the matter of the stuff Xander kept glossing over or evading every time she asked about it. How come Willow and Spike were sleeping with Angel in the first place? Sure, in porno it would have made sense, but Willow was nothing like the girls in porn – for one thing, her boobs were real – and she wasn’t the sort of person who would decide to have a threesome because there was nothing good on TV that night. And what about Spike? He hated Angel, didn’t he? Of course, vampires were pretty open sexually and didn’t much care who they did it with, but still…

The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Great. Now she was not only worried, but confused. There had to be something she could do about this.

Then it hit her. Tonight, when Xander came home, she’d be wearing nothing but that red lace garter belt he liked with the seamed stockings and the high heels; after she did that thing with her tongue, he’d tell her whatever she wanted to know.

Of course, that wasn’t going to do anything about her worrying, but at least it would get her questions answered. Maybe if she used the chocolate sauce, she could get Xander to worry for her, too.

Oh shoot. They had to babysit Dawn tonight.

Now she was angry at Buffy. She was going to have to stay worried and confused and there was nothing she could do about it.

For the second time in recent days, Giles found himself parking in front of the Hyperion in a rented car. “We’re here,” he said needlessly, half-expecting Buffy to say ‘duh’ or some other colloquialism that conveyed disdain. She didn’t however, merely sighing as if she were dreading what was to come. Giles could hardly blame her for that.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Buffy’s voice was plaintive.

“Of course she will. Buffy, you two have shared…you’re more like sisters than mere friends. Certainly recent events have strained your relationship, but I hardly think it’s broken.” He hoped he was right.

His own case, of course, was far more uncertain of a favorable outcome, but he decided that bringing that up would do nothing but threaten the resolve of the both of them, so instead he forced a smile and said, “I think it’s time for us to go in and make amends. Shall we?”

Tbc…


	46. Chapter Forty-Five

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Five)

The lobby looked much the same as the last time Giles had been here – larger, perhaps, and more forbidding. He was suddenly struck by how hard it was to imagine Willow working here, living here. It was so far removed from the cozy rooms in which they’d been accustomed to gather. Even the now-demolished library was warm and homey compared to this place.

“Nice digs,” Buffy said, though her tone of voice seemed to contradict her words. Not hard for Giles to tell she felt as out of place here as he did.

“Yes, quite,” he lied in reply. “I suppose we ought to go to the office and look for…”

“What are you doing here?” Cordelia’s voice was shrill and anything but welcoming as she came from exactly where Giles and Buffy had been heading.

“We’re here to see Willow,” Buffy said, hoping her hard tone would end any conversation with Cordelia before it began. Just because she’d had a vision – and okay, maybe it had helped – that didn’t mean that Buffy liked her any better than she had before, and that wasn’t much.

“Oh? Finally figure out how to say ‘thank you’?”

“Cordelia,” Angel interrupted as he, too, entered the lobby. His voice was firm but kind. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand how she felt.

His seer held her hands up in a dramatic gesture of surrender. “Fine. Not like I don’t have better things to do than talk to these ungrateful losers anyway.” She flounced away, heading upstairs – probably to complain to Connor. Angel noticed that she was fond of using his son as a sounding board when she was irritated… with anyone but Angel, anyway. He knew she knew better than to disparage him to his son.

“Buffy. Rupert.” Angel kept the greeting minimal and disdained playing some charade of surprise. Not as if he acted surprised even when he was anyway.

“Angel.” Buffy was seeing him on his home turf and it just made the distance between them all the more palpable. He had his own world now, a place where she didn’t fit. If she’d been told years ago that someday he’d be closer to _Cordelia_ than he was to her… “I’m sorry,” she said, somehow blundering into getting right to the point.

Giles reached out and took her hand; she was grateful for the support. Especially since Angel’s face gave her no clue as to what he was thinking. “I… We… We wanted to say that to Willow, too. We were…“

“Wrong,” Giles finished for her, feeling the need to take the brunt of what he was sure would be Angel’s ill will. “Myself more than Buffy. It was I who leapt to the conclusion that…”

“You’re right. You were wrong. Both of you.” For all Giles’s posturing, Angel wasn’t going to let Buffy off the hook. He’d seen her stand up to Giles before. It could be done. “Willow risked everything to help you, left herself open to the Hellmouth.”

“I know,” Buffy said. “And I wish I could go back – do things differently – see things the right way. But all I can do is what I’m doing now – and that’s apologize and try to make up for my mistakes.” Her eyes were wide and liquid as they locked on Angel’s. Once upon a time the look in them would have moved him deeply. “Please, Angel. Let me try.”

“Fine. I’ll go find Willow.” He turned on his heel and went upstairs to where Willow was biting her nails, waiting for these two to arrive. He had a horrible feeling she’d accepted their apologies before they’d even been offered.

“You sure you’re up to dealing with them, pet?” Spike asked. He was feeling solicitous, and a bit surprised by it as well - his compassion had even led him to stop at two shots of whiskey before coming back to Angel's room. He’d exhausted his personal animus towards Buffy and Giles rather sooner than he’d expected and his ire was all on Willow’s behalf now. Odd thing, friendship, and not very demonic either. Guess he’d just keep blaming it on the bloody chip in his head.

“Yeah.” She sort of meant that. It helped having Spike here with her as she waited for Angel to come fetch her. He was being kind – really, really kind. So much so that it was a good thing that her nerves and her guilt were enough of a distraction to prevent those pesky hopes of hers from slipping their chains and taking flight.

Speak of the devil…well…_Angel_. “They’re here,” he said as he walked in the door.

“Figured that,” Spike sniped. He wished Buffy and Giles hadn’t arrived yet. Now that he thought about it, he’d have liked to have had at least enough time to coach Willow into being a bit of a tough sell. As it stood now, he was well aware her forgiveness was as sure a thing as betting on a one-horse race. In the past, that ready willingness to let bygones be bygones was something from which he’d happily reaped the benefit, but now… Now he wished she wasn’t so damned soft hearted.

Would have been nice if Peaches had backed him up on that score as well, but he knew his sire too well to expect that. He had to play the role of the understanding, open-minded one – calculating as ever. All to try and make Willow fall for him. He’d never tried that hard for Spike. Never would, either, Spike reckoned.

Well that tore it. He might not be angry at Buffy and Giles, but he _was_ angry – at himself more than anything. Especially since he couldn’t stop himself from being the foil. “Hope you told ‘em where to head in.”

“Not now, Spike.” Angel was not in the mood for Spike’s childish antics. He addressed Willow. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She took Angel’s hand and he couldn’t help but relish the way she was looking to him for support. But just when he was feeling hope… “Are you coming, Spike?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Spike took Willow’s arm. “I better be the one to escort her downstairs, Peaches, seeing as how I’m supposed to be the lucky one and you’re supposed to be the brooding twat wanting what he can’t have,”

Willow glared at him, not that it would do any good. And besides, she supposed she understood – making Angel angry was the only outlet Spike had for the frustration he felt. It hurt him so much that Angel wouldn’t love him back. As much as Willow understood that frustration, she also wondered how that lack of feeling could be. Spike was so very easy to fall in love with, at least that’s the way it seemed to her.

But now was not the time to think about that, even if it was almost a welcome diversion from the image of Warren’s face, frozen in open-eyed death, that swam anew before her mind’s eye. Maybe it was so easy to forgive Buffy and Giles because she still wasn’t sure they were completely wrong. She had, after all, killed a man.

Rationally, she knew there had been no other course; knew, too, that the Powers That Be had sent her there knowing full well how it would end. That didn’t mean she was comfortable with it yet. She wasn’t designed by nature to be a killer. Again she found herself wondering how she had come to be the one with the powers she held and the destiny that seemed to have been assigned to her. Couldn’t Cordelia have a vision about that sometime?

And now here they were – in the lobby. Willow couldn’t even remember leaving the bedroom. Xander had a point all those years ago – it was entirely possible that she had too many thoughts.

“Hey,” Buffy said. Her eyes were focused on Willow while trying not to see Spike’s arm around her shoulder or the way Angel was standing so very close to her. There had to be a way to make this easier. “Can we… Is there a place where we could talk? Just the three of us?” She indicated Giles with a tilt of her head.

She watched as Willow turned to Angel, who nodded, but said nothing. What did that mean?

“Let’s go into the office, okay?”

Was Buffy overreacting to be jealous of the silent communication between them? How did Willow know he meant the office? Or was that her idea and Angel was just agreeing to leave them alone?

God, paranoid and melodramatic much?

She worked at getting her feelings under control as she and Giles followed Willow to the office. It was a pretty impressive set-up, she had to admit. Then again, what wouldn’t be compared to her dining room and the Magic Box? Maybe she needed to incorporate, start taking on some paying clients. Would Giles hate her if she did some bodyguard work to help supplement her income? It would beat the heck out of scraping gum off the tables at the Doublemeat Palace.

“I wish I’d done things differently.” Willow’s was the first voice heard, soft but clear, and Giles could see the truth in her eyes.

He wondered – and was frightened by the thought – if he would have reacted much differently to anything she’d done had it involved magic. He wasn’t brave enough to say that out loud, but what he did say was, “You did the right thing. I’m sorry I didn’t see that before. But you did.”

“Really?” Even though Xander had told her that Buffy and Giles had changed their minds, it was hard to believe they meant it, even now.

“Really, Will.” In a few seconds, Willow was enveloped in a Slayer-strength hug. “Is it too late to say ‘thank you’?”

“No,” Willow choked out. It felt like old times for a moment or two, especially when she looked over Buffy’s shoulder and saw Giles cleaning his glasses, with a shine to his eyes that had nothing to do with the light.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Willow couldn’t believe they had gotten back to this place after how badly things had gone in Sunnydale, but she was grateful. Grateful, too, that Buffy and Giles would leave soon and the last of her secrets was safe. Buffy would still love her that way.

“Can you forgive me as well?” Giles asked.

“Of course,” Willow answered and she meant it with all her heart. She knew how Giles had always felt about her and magic. He’d barely wanted to have anything to do with her using it. What more proof could there be that he’d always feared what she would do with it? So how could she blame him for thinking the worst?

Much to her own surprise, she let go of Buffy and went straight to Giles, hugging him as tightly as she figured he could handle – what with his not being big on physical affection and all. It felt so good when he hugged her back. “Thanks,” she said.

It was easy, so much easier than she’d thought it would be. It was almost anticlimactic, but in a good way – a _really_ good way. None of the big speeches she’d thought there would be, none of the explanations or justifications. Just a few words from each of them and the rift was healed. Guess it was that way when you really loved and cared about each other. Willow was so grateful for that. She just wanted everyone to be happy, or as happy as they could be. She let go of Giles and allowed herself to bask in the glow of everything being okay – really okay.

Buffy grinned broadly. Okay, there were still things that needed working on – mostly her own feelings about Angel and his feelings for Willow and even a little jealousy about Willow being with Spike – but the important stuff was okay now. She and Willow were friends again and Willow and Giles were close again, too. When it all came down to it, wasn’t that what mattered? Because in a life where romance had never worked out very well, Buffy realized that what she’d always had were her friends. They were her rock.

Especially Willow.

And hey, now that she’d apologized and thanked her and now that Willow had no more secrets from her, maybe they could be as close as they used to be, even though Willow was living a few hours away.

“You guys want any tea or anything?” Willow asked. Some hostess she was. She should have offered refreshments before now. Although, come to think of it, there hadn’t really been a good moment for it.

“I should love some tea, thank you.” Giles looked grateful and Willow smiled. Giles’s fondness for tea was a constant.

“Sure,” Buffy agreed.

“Great. I’ll go make some.”

Just as Willow was leaving, Buffy remembered something important. “Will, is it okay if I use the computer? I need to check my email.” That check had better have gotten to her ISP or Dawn was going to be impossible when she got home.

“Sure thing,” Willow caroled as she kept right on her way to the kitchen. Things had gone so well. Now they would sit and drink tea together and talk and catch up and just be friends they way they used to be. She was so glad that Buffy and Giles had come here.

Buffy sat down in front of the computer and got onto the internet, heading straight to her email account without even thinking of looking at anything else. It was funny – all the years she’d been friends with Willow and she still didn’t get the appeal of the internet. She wasn’t even interested in doing any snooping on Angel’s computer. Besides, she knew if she did that Willow would somehow know immediately.

Great news. The confirmation email was there, letting her know that they got the check and her internet would stay on. Of course there was the requisite pitch to set up automatic payments, which she rolled her eyes at before deleting the message.

She was about to log out when her eye was caught by another email. It was from a law firm. She was about to delete it, too – Willow had warned her about scams – but…would some cheesy internet scam artist know about her mom? Because right in the subject line it said ‘Regarding the Estate of Joyce Summers’.

“Giles?” she said, motioning him to come over and look, “What do you think this is?”

Giles looked over Buffy’s shoulder as she pointed to the email. It certainly was a bit of a surprise, but then again, perhaps Joyce had had other investments or insurance and they had been tied up in some fashion until now. “I don’t see any harm in opening it and seeing what it says.”

Oddly, for just a moment before she clicked on the link, Buffy had the strangest feeling of foreboding. She shrugged it off.

The moment the email was opened, the computer screen went black. Oh no. Willow had warned her about this stuff so many times and here she’d gone and opened that stupid email anyway, just because they’d used her mom’s name. Had she been conned into letting loose some virus on the AI computer?

She should have paid better attention to what Warren and Andrew and Jonathan had shown them that day in Sunnydale. Maybe then she’d have known better than to trust anything to do with computers.

Because now what she saw on the screen was so much worse than any virus.

Willow and Angel were having sex. Wild, passionate, animalistic sex. The kind of sex Buffy had daydreamed about having with him only a few days ago. He was pounding into Willow who was giving it back just as hard, her nails digging into his shoulders, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Spike lay beside the two of them, his mouth on Willow’s neck and his hand in her hair. Buffy could barely hear the moans and cries over the roaring in her ears.

How could Willow do this? How could Willow do this to _her_?

Giles was in shock. Complete and utter shock. Staring at the screen, he could barely make sense of what he was seeing. He wanted to look away – he _should_ have looked away – but he couldn’t. There was Willow and she was…and with Angel…and Spike. She was risking the return of the monster who had murdered his Jenny and all he could do was ask why. Why on Earth would she endanger herself and everyone she knew?

Who was this girl? Surely not the girl he’d always known; the one who had once held hands with Oz and exchanged gentle kisses with Tara. This was a savage, wanton creature. This was not the girl he’d always thought of as almost a daughter. Giles was nearly sick at the sight of her rutting with Angel. The only thing that gave him pause was the sight of Spike whispering into Willow’s ear. Could this all have been happening at his direction? Was his influence over Willow so great?

Just then, Willow walked back into the room a friendly smile on her face, carrying a tray with a teapot and cups and saucers. She’d expected to see the smiling duo she’d left just a few minutes ago, but instead they looked as if something terrible had just happened. Oh no. _Did_ something terrible happen? “What’s wrong?”

‘What’s wrong?’ That was a good question, wasn’t it? So good that it seemed to echo off the walls and repeat itself over and over. In answer, Buffy turned up the volume on the computer – just in time for the big finale. The only sound in the office now was Willow’s orgasmic cry of Angel’s name.

It was more than enough.

What followed was a resounding crash as Willow’s tray and its contents hit the floor. “Oh my God!”

Tbc…


	47. Chapter Forty-Six

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Six)

In the course of a few seconds the world which had finally been set right had now spun madly off its axis. Willow stood, paralyzed by shock and emotion, amidst the wreckage of tea. How…what…how?

“B-Buffy?”

“We’ve been watching a most…extraordinary video,” Giles said, his voice ice cold.

It was obvious from the rage in his eyes what that video was.

Oh God. Not again. Please not again. Why hadn’t she just said no when Buffy asked to use the computer? There were so many good excuses she could have come up with. It was too late now, though. Even if she _could_ turn back time – and it was very possible she could manage – she knew she shouldn’t. Not even if it would prevent everything that was happening.

At least she’d learned from _some_ past mistakes.

“How could you?” Buffy asked, her eyes as full of tears as Willow had feared they would be.

Willow didn’t get the chance to answer. Apparently the sound of shattering porcelain had carried. Angel, Spike, Cordelia, and Wesley burst into the room.

“What the hell?” Spike’s would be the first voice lifted, wouldn’t it?

“Are you alright?” Angel was beside her in seconds.

“They know,” Willow said softly.

Wesley blanched, but said nothing. It was hardly his place. But he would stand by in case things got out of hand. Contrary to what Rupert Giles and Buffy Summers might remember, he was far from unskilled at fighting. Not anymore.

“How?” Angel asked, glaring a warning at Cordelia. She got the message and stayed quiet. Good. Because the last thing Willow needed was for her to make things worse, though he admittedly had a hard time seeing how they could be – at least for Willow.

“I got an email…with a video,” Buffy said, a sardonic edge to a voice also choking back tears. “Computers, huh? Pretty amazing the things you can find on them.”

Wolfram and Hart, Angel thought. It had to be them. He said nothing aloud. What would the point be? It was hardly as if Buffy or Giles would care that the email came from Angel’s worst enemies.

Now that this had finally happened, Spike was almost pleased. He was well and truly sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop, and a part of him still resented Buffy’s treatment of him enough to enjoy her ultimate humiliation. Still, this was hard on Willow…and Angel, too, he figured. That last was the part that really bothered him, the idea that Buffy might still be able to hurt Angel in a way Spike feared he could not.

One of these days he was going to accept his place. Guess that day wasn’t today, though.

“ ‘Bout time you figured it out, Slayer. Harris and the demon chit managed all by themselves.”

“Spike,” Willow hissed. It was too late. The damage was done and Spike was glad of it.

“They know?”

“Yeah, they know. Not hard, after all, what with the way Peaches over there is so bloody obvious. Think I’d put up with that if there wasn’t something in it for me? Guess you don’t know me very well, do you? Except in the biblical sense, of course.”

Now all the secrets were out and Spike was enormously gratified by the round of gasps from everyone but Willow and Angel. He drew up straighter and smirked.

Giles was, if possible, more shocked than he had been before, though not as horrified as by what he’d seen of Willow. Had Buffy…? She must have. The look on her face spoke eloquently of shame and she made no move to deny Spike’s claim. They would be having a talk when this was done.

What stunned him most, however, was the equanimity with which Wesley and Cordelia seemed to have accepted what was going on between Willow and Spike and Angel. Had they no concern for what would happen should Angel lose his soul?

“I suppose this is all well and good to you, Spike. You’d be delighted should Angelus return. But Willow…”

Angel had been mostly quiet through all of this, even allowing Spike to be as spiteful as he wished, but now it was time for him to step in. “How dare you! Willow nearly died to give me back my soul and now you’re accusing her of trying to make me lose it? Neither of us wants that to happen and frankly, Spike would be an idiot if he did either. In case you’ve forgotten – and believe me, Angelus hasn’t – Spike betrayed him.”

That should have stopped Giles cold; it didn’t. “That’s a very pretty speech, however…”

Cordelia had finally had enough. “Excuse me? I can’t believe you people! You come barging into our _business_ and use _our_ computers, which are probably infected with something now, thanks to you, and you rant and rave and accuse people of things that you don’t know anything about.” Cordelia drew herself up to her full height and glared at Buffy and Giles. “For your information, the only way Angel can lose his soul is if he forgets he’s a demon, which only seems to have been a problem when he was boinking a certain deranged stalker-Slayer who just can’t let go no matter how many years have gone by since she’s been Angel’s main squeeze.”

Bloody hell. Not a bad speech from the cheerleader, Spike decided. He might have to cut her a break from here on in. “She’s got it right. Seems that Angel can be as happy as Willow and I can make him – and I think you have a rough idea of just how very happy that is” – he leered for emphasis before continuing – “since we’re not inclined to expect him to forget what he is.”

Willow wanted to say something, to soften the blow somehow, but Angel’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it would be easier for Buffy to deal with this if she just hated them all – even Willow – forever.

Buffy was frozen. She’d expected… She had no idea what she had expected since it sure wasn’t like she’d expected _any_ of this. Willow was having sex with Angel, _her_ Angel. Okay, maybe not her Angel anymore, but… And you know, it was funny, but until Giles brought it up, the whole ‘losing his soul’ thing had barely crossed her mind. All she had seen was Willow having better sex than she’d had with the man she still loved.

How could she? She knew…she knew how Buffy felt. Oh yeah, there’d been Riley, but that wasn’t…and if Willow had told her about the curse, about the loophole, Buffy would have found some way.

How long had Angel known? And if he’d known for a long time, why had never said anything to her?

Her head throbbed. She hadn’t hurt so badly since before she’d come back…since Willow had _forced_ her to come back. It felt like Willow had taken away everything good – Heaven, Angel, even the friendship she had with Xander… It was all gone.

She knew even right at this terrible moment that she wasn’t being fair, that Willow wasn’t her enemy – not really – but that wasn’t what she felt like. Her heart was ripped open and she hated Willow for every bit of the agony she was feeling.

“Giles, we need to leave.” Her words were sudden and harsh and obviously unexpected, but she had to get out of here. If she didn’t, there was no telling what she might do. She had sense enough to know that someday she’d regret it, though, whatever it was. “Now.”

While Giles was somewhat taken aback by Buffy’s near-command, he saw the wisdom in it. He had to admit to a similar desire to be far away. The images he’d seen on that screen were burned into his brain and, even if Angel’s soul truly was secure, he realized he was nearly as disturbed by them as he had been when he’d believed the possible return of Angelus to be his reason for feeling such anger and disgust.

If Buffy had suffered today, and she had, so, too, had Giles. It felt as if years of his past – years he cherished – had been turned to ash and soot. No more would memories of Willow smiling brightly in the high school library bring an answering smile to his face. She’d been replaced by… There were words echoing in his head. Cruel, horrible words he would never use towards any woman. “I think that’s best,” he finally replied.

Placing a fatherly arm around Buffy’s shoulders, he guided her out of the hotel. How on Earth was he going to keep his wits about him well enough to get them safely home?

The moment she was sure they were gone, Willow burst into tears. “What have I done?”

Spike resisted the urge to respond with a risqué remark, something along the lines of a rather impressive list. She was a pretty adventurous little chit behind closed doors and that was a fact.

Now was not the time. Just because he felt that the departure of their unwelcome guests was a case of ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ didn’t mean his opinion was shared by Willow. She was well and truly shattered.

The concern he felt for her didn’t outweigh his ability to think of his own selfish interests, however. As much as Spike knew she’d rather have his arms around her than anyone’s, he let that privilege go to Angel. He knew full well that at least he’d get some ‘appreciation’ from Angel for that concession later. Maybe even another session in the shower. A bloke could dream, couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.” Even as he said the words, Angel knew they were meaningless, but they were the words you said at a time like this. He held Willow close, inhaling the scent of salt and despair from her tear-stained skin. He wasn’t happy either. Hurting Buffy had never been something he planned. What she’d found out in Sunnydale was as much as he’d wanted her to know – at least for a long time – and the way she’d found out the rest…

What bothered him the most, though, was Giles’s reaction. The way he’d looked at Willow… Angel didn’t need to have lost his soul to want to rip the man’s head off for it. How dare he. Angel knew enough to be certain that Giles’s own sexual past was checkered, to say the least. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and come up with Ethan Rayne.

No reason to bring that up, though. In fact there was no reason to go into any of it. Willow would cry, Angel would comfort her, and later… Later things would be the same as they always were.

But there _was_ something they were going to need to deal with…

“Angel?” Cordelia’s shrill voice interrupted his thoughts. “You need to take a look at this. Your psycho ex didn’t log off her email account so therefore we…”

“Can see where the video was sent from,” Angel finished. He was pretty sure that was a formality, however. He knew where that video came from.

The exchange was enough to bring Willow out of her tears, at least somewhat. Angel let go of her and she hurried over to the computer. Cordelia gave her a brief hug before Willow took a look at the screen.

Wolfram and Hart. The email came from Wolfram and Hart. She was about to say something, but since everyone else was now behind her, looking over her shoulders, it seemed sort of superfluous.

“Those bastards.”

Wesley? Wesley cursed? Willow turned her head in shock. It was a welcome distraction from the anguish she was feeling.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Spike agreed. As much as he hated to admit it, this was a damn nice spot of vengeance on the part of those damn lawyers. Anya couldn’t have done better back in her demon days. Guess they hadn’t called it even after all. “S’pose they’re still upset about the way Red kept ‘em from getting hold of Connor.”

“You think?” Cordelia snapped. She couldn’t believe this had happened and right now she was ready to grab the PTB’s and shake them. Why in the hell hadn’t she gotten a vision about this? Since when was saving Buffy so much more important than protecting Willow – and everyone else here for that matter? “How did they get a camera into Angel’s bedroom anyway?”

Just at that moment, Fred and Gunn walked in. “What’s going on?” Fred asked, confused by the obvious crisis happening in the office. Boy, you go out for tacos and you wind up missing important things.

“The cat’s out of the bag,” Spike said, which didn’t clear anything up at all. She looked at Gunn, but he didn’t get it either. Luckily, Spike said more. “The Slayer was here and Willow let her check her email. Bad idea. Seems Wolfram and Hart planted a camera in our bedroom and decided to send the little film they made to her.”

Fred felt slightly sick. She also hoped there wasn’t a camera in _her_ bedroom. Well, not _another_ one. The look on Gunn’s face told her he was thinking the same thing. “What happened?” she asked. No one was dead – well, _more_ dead – so how bad could it be?

She hadn’t looked too closely at Willow before she asked that and she felt real awful when the tear stains registered.

“Buffy hates me. So does Giles.” What else was Willow supposed to say? Besides, that was it in a nutshell, right?

“How did they get a camera in here?” Gunn asked. It was kinda the obvious question, wasn’t it? Besides, he hated that Willow’d gotten hurt. The sooner they figured this out, the sooner they could plug the obvious hole in their security.

The office was silent for a time as it seemed everyone was going over the past few weeks in their memories.

“Bugger!” Spike’s outburst startled everyone. “That rotten bitch!”

“Who?” Angel asked.

“The ugly bint married to the shapeshifter. Shoulda known there was something up, the way she was comin’ onto me, wouldn’t let me leave. And the way she barely raised a fuss when we ditched the case. She and that shapeshifter weren’t gettin’ a divorce at all – they were working for Wolfram and Hart.”

“He must have got in somehow while you were occupied,” Wesley picked up where Spike left off. “Without you here, and with Lorne having gone out as well there was no one here to sense the presence of…”

“Lorne wasn’t out that day,” Fred interrupted. “I saw him. I remember sorta wondering why he was going into…” Fred stopped, everything suddenly becoming clear. She felt like such an idiot. “Oh gosh. It was the shapeshifter, wasn’t it?”

Gunn pulled his girlfriend against him. “It’s not your fault. Not like you were expecting someone to pretend to be Lorne.”

“It’s okay,” Willow reassured her. She wasn’t angry at Fred at all. She was angry at _herself_. She’d done a reading, she’d even picked up something slightly ‘off’, but did she tell them not to take the case? No. She’d been gulled by their little boy as much as everyone else had and put off her vibes to the woman not being quite as blameless as she claimed to be. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“What are you sorry for?” Spike asked. “She took us all in. Plenty of blame to go around, as far as I can see. Hell, you weren’t even here when the bloody camera got planted.” Truthfully, Spike figured he was more at fault than anyone else, seeing as how he hadn’t seen through that hatched-faced bint’s sudden transformation into a lust-crazed trollop.

“Blaming ourselves isn’t going to solve anything,” Angel said. “We need to stay focused. Obviously, Wolfram and Hart are back in the game. The first thing we need to do is find the camera and see if there are any more anywhere else, and then…”

Gunn grinned. “We take those lawyers down.”

The scenery was a blur as Buffy stared out the window, glad she’d let Giles take the wheel again for the return trip. As much as she wanted to be far away from L.A., she was in no real hurry to get back to Sunnydale and face Xander and Anya either. Maybe she could talk Giles into taking them to Disneyland instead or something.

Or maybe not. Because not even Mickey Mouse could make things better right now. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, missing her mom more than she ever had. More than anything, when she got home, she wanted to curl up on the couch in her flannel PJ’s with an old movie on the TV and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s on the coffee table and have her mommy stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

That wasn’t what she’d get.

Giles reached over and put his hand on her arm, but he said nothing. She knew how he felt. She didn’t know what to say either. Instead, she just kept staring out the window, wishing she was back in Heaven.

It was funny, though… She hadn’t seen her mother there.

How could she have been happy there without her?

Tears came to her eyes again. Great. Now even Heaven seemed bleak.

Tbc…


	48. Chapter Forty-Seven

Pity Us, We Wakeful (Chapter Forty-Seven)

If.

Two letters, one syllable, and it was the ugliest, most horrible word in the English language.

_If I hadn’t let Buffy use the computer._

_If Buffy hadn’t opened the email._

_If I’d told Buffy the truth myself._

“Don’t torture yourself,” Angel said softly as he wrapped his arms around her. It was as if he could read her mind. Willow couldn’t help it, though; the thoughts just kept spinning through her head.

“I’m glad the demon didn’t kidnap Connor,” she responded obliquely.

“Good job the cheerleader had taken him out for walkies,” Spike agreed. He hated to admit it, but he owed the chit for this. He was supposed to protect the baby and he’d almost failed.

“I don’t think he was here to kidnap Connor anyway,” Angel replied gravely. “I’m pretty sure they knew that he was gone when the shapeshifter came in.” He’d been giving the matter a good deal of thought, actually, and it occurred to him that there might have been a time limit on when Connor was useful to Wolfram and Hart and that what they wanted now was simply revenge – possibly more against Willow than against Angel.

“I should have known. I even did a reading. I should have…” Willow was still blaming herself.

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, pet.” Even as he said it, Spike knew it was a platitude, and a bloody stupid one at that. Still, what else was there at a time like this? “At least we found the camera.” It wasn’t the fact that those bastard lawyers had seen them shagging that bothered Spike – it was the thought that they could have seen his feelings for his sire – the feelings Angel didn’t return. “And thank hell we didn’t do much talking.” He leered a bit as he spoke – always best to play the devil-may-care role no matter what.

Angel had to agree. “Most of the talking we did was about…”

“Buffy,” Willow said softly. “Guess that’s how they could be sure what to do with the video.”

Before Willow spoke it had never occurred to Angel, but he wondered now if the sex tape had been the original plan at all. Maybe Wolfram and Hart had just been grasping at straws, hoping for something they could use somehow. He wondered just how long the camera had been monitored and if they’d stopped watching after the three of them had had sex.

“It’s creepy.” Willow spoke again. “Knowing that someone was watching us, listening to us. It’s…it’s a kind of violation, you know? It’s even worse than what happened in Sunnydale.”

Angel held her even tighter, acknowledging that he understood. He felt the same way she did. It was invasive and disturbing. They needed to tighten security… And they would definitely be making those bastards pay.

“I can’t believe that _none_ of us saw through that stupid shapeshifter and his stupid wife. And by the way, whose _brilliant_ idea was it to take a divorce case? Because I distinctly remember Angel saying we don’t _do_ divorce cases.”

“I’m sorry,” Wesley replied tersely, cowed by Cordelia’s shrill tirade. “I made a grave error in judgment.” He looked around, noticing that no one, not even Lorne, was coming to his defense. Perhaps they were right. After all, he had exposed them all to a good deal of danger and Willow had been grossly humiliated and hurt. It occurred to him that it might behoove him to make a suggestion. “I believe that I will offer to step down as head of the agency – let Angel take the helm again.”

“It’s okay. We all make mistakes. Right, guys?” It was sweet of Fred to come to his defense. Strangely, what was better was that it didn’t cause that fluttering of the heart that false hope was wont to do. Somewhere amidst all the turmoil of late, he had somehow managed to let go. Wesley fought the urge to smile. It would be inappropriate and require explanation.

“She’s right,” Gunn agreed. Again, Wesley felt the balm of relief as Gunn’s fond glance at Fred caused him no pain. “Not like any of us said a damn thing.” There was the impulse to chuckle as Gunn gave Cordelia a meaningful look.

“What? Just because I’m a seer you people all expect me to see everything?”

Lorne spoke up. “No one said that, sweetcheeks. But we all have to take our share of the blame. If I had done a reading, or at least told everyone that I was leaving that day…” He really did feel horrible, too. Partly because the idea that someone impersonated him well enough to fool Fred was a blow to his self-esteem. He’d gotten used to being unique and the idea that maybe he wasn’t so innately special…well, in the parlance of his new pals, that just sucked.

Of course, it wasn’t nearly as bad as what Willow was going through and Lorne felt an enormous wave of guilt. His ego would recover. After all, it wasn’t like the usurper had spoken or sung or anything. “Does anybody know how witchiepoo is doing?”

Maybe Tara should have been surprised, but she wasn’t. Sad? Yeah. Hurting and angry? Yeah. But no, she wasn’t surprised.

Unlike Buffy, though, she knew who the villain was and, as much as it would help her broken heart to see Willow as some slut right now, Tara knew it wasn’t true.

But now Willow was changed and really exiled forever. Tara would never see her again, not for a minute, and it was all Angel’s fault.

She knew he was a bad man the minute she’d seen him in Los Angeles. No, not a bad man…a bad _thing_. He was a demon and all that soul stuff meant nothing. It was just a coat he wore to pretend that he wasn’t selfish and cruel. She remembered the waves of possession she’d felt from him when he was near her girl…yes, _her_ girl, because that’s what Willow had been until Buffy had sent her to Angel – Angel, who was so much worse than Spike. At least Spike never lied about what he was.

Tara hated Angel. For the first time in her whole life, she thought about using magic to hurt someone.

She didn’t do it – _wouldn’t_ do it – but she thought about it for a long time.

Dawn sat on Xander and Anya’s couch, eating Junior Mints and wondering if she could just move in here forever.

Buffy was such a bitch and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like she’d never screwed anybody else – and yeah, Dawn was using bad words, but they were only in her thoughts, not like that mattered, because she was a Key and she was old enough to talk any way she wanted. Screwed, screwed, screwed. So there.

Eww. She sort of grossed herself out. Was it just her or did the word ‘screw’ bring up really weird mental images? No, not using that word again.

Dawn hadn’t realized how much she really, truly missed Willow until she’d visited this last time and she’d been back in the house again. It had sort of been like old times, except for stupid, poofy Angel being there. And okay, yeah, Dawn thought it was pretty gross that Willow was screw…doing naked things with Angel, but she was totally willing to forgive her (or stage an intervention) and Buffy should be, too. He and Buffy had been broken up _forever_ and anyway, Angel had lost his soul the one time he and Buffy had sex so really, why would Buffy even want to do it with him again? Because that would really suck and Dawn could not imagine wanting to do it with a guy a second time after that.

So why was Buffy still pining over him?

Everyone was always telling her she needed to grow up, but from where she was sitting, it seemed like they were the ones who needed to get a clue. Because Dawn knew what was important: your friends, your family, and the friends who _were_ your family. What was so grown-up and mature about forgetting that?

She wished Xander and Anya would come out of the bedroom. She needed someone to talk to besides herself.

“I hate her,” Buffy said softly and with a strange, flat inflection, as if she were trying out unfamiliar words. Maybe she meant it, or maybe she didn’t. She thought she felt it when she said it, but now, less than a second later, she had no idea what she felt.

The living room seemed big and cold and empty and nothing like it ever had before. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she wondered if her mother would be angry about that. This was a lot worse than when she drew all over the walls with her crayons when she was three. Besides, that had been back when they were living in… Los Angeles. The place where she was born. The place where a part of her died.

Or had she killed it?

Which did she miss most? The dream of Angel? Or her very real best friend?

She lay down on the sofa, clutching a throw pillow to her chest, and she tried to cry. It took an hour, or maybe more. By the time it happened, she wasn’t sure if the few tears she could squeeze out meant anything. Maybe Willow should have been the one she asked if she’d come back wrong. Willow would have known for sure.

The moment she thought that, the tears made sense. It wasn’t hard to cry at all anymore.

“This is all Spike’s fault,” Xander said, the venom in his voice surprising Anya. “If that bastard hadn’t pimped Willow out to Angel to begin with…”

“What?” Anya cried, not caring that Dawn was in the next room.

Xander sighed. When was he going to learn to keep his big mouth shut? “It’s… It’s why Willow’s with them both in the first place. She’s in love with Spike, but… Spike’s got a thing for Angel. Which means that if Willow wants Spike, she has to be with… It’s a big mess, okay?”

Anya was going to get really angry with Xander for not telling her this before but she was too happy to finally not be confused about why Willow was having threesomes. And she supposed she had to understand why Xander didn’t want to tell her that Willow was practically a prostitute – well, except for the getting paid part, which was actually what made you a prostitute, wasn't it? Okay, could you have a pimp but not be a prostitute? Because now she was completely confused again. But more important than this question was another one. “So Spike…?”

“Doesn’t love Willow.” Xander’s voice was hard.

“But Angel does?”

“Yeah.”

“But she doesn’t love him back?”

“No.”

“So she’s only having sex with Angel because…?”

“Yeah.”

Anya thought for a moment. “You know, I could call Halfrek right now and, presto, Spike’s penis would be covered in really gross boils.”

Xander pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. His wife was the most wonderful woman in the whole world. “Willow loves him,” he said. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Oh,” Anya said brightly. “That’s good, right? Because it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, An.”

After a moment, he let go and said, “We better go out and check on Dawn. I’m not sure she'll have left us anything to eat.”

Halfway through a second bottle of scotch and there was no escape to be had. Giles was well and truly trapped – trapped in a morass of jumbled insights and self-hatred and anger at Willow and then more self-hatred.

Nothing could have prepared him for the uninhibited display he’d witnessed, for the carnality of it, and the images refused to leave him. But the longer they stayed, the more he had to think about how he felt and that… That was the agonizing part of it all.

He’d gone from telling himself that this was about Buffy and Jenny and Angelus to thinking it had more to do with things he’d given up to be a Watcher and a guide to these children who… Who weren’t children anymore.

And one of whom had what he’d wrenched from his own life – his own bed…his own heart – long ago.

It always seemed to come back to this place, to this four letter word more profane than even that beloved Anglo-Saxon staple, ‘fuck’ – envy.

But it was true, wasn’t it? She had the power, and that was wrenching enough, but now she had the passion, the pleasure, the whole package – everything those nights with Ethan Rayne had promised and almost delivered, everything Giles had chased in giving himself over to Eyghon and excess. And she hadn’t even sought it. No, it all just fell into her lap, like a pampered child at a birthday party being given gift after dazzling gift and…

Oh God. Was this truly what he was? A small, petty, envious man – covetous and cruel and cold? He laid his head on the dining table, his eyes wet with tears. It was too late…too late…

He was still a Watcher, though. Buffy’s Watcher. She loved him, needed him, looked up to him. That was something, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

They were all sort of sick of this place, but how many demon-friendly restaurants could you find in Los Angeles?

“Do you think we should bring Willow back some food or anything?” Fred asked after swallowing a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Don’t think she’ll be eatin’ much tonight,” Gunn answered with a meaningful glance at his girlfriend. Not like they didn’t know what those three got up to every night. They got the audio…and it was definitely not the soundtrack to the Food Network.

Wesley and Cordelia and Lorne each tried to ignore this latest conversational twist. They were aware enough of what Cordelia always called “the sexcapades” without delving into them any further.

“Any idea on how to handle Wolfram and Hart?” Lorne asked.

Just then, the waiter reappeared at their table and, after they all ordered more drinks and Fred ordered a slice of molten chocolate cake, they waited for him to depart before Wesley answered.

“Well, having given the matter some thought, this has all the hallmarks of something somewhat personal, rather than a strictly corporate maneuver. I think, therefore, that we need to look at who had the most involvement with the plot to kidnap Connor and I believe that would be…”

“Lilah Morgan,” Cordelia finished.

The minute she said the name out loud, it was as if everything that happened became smaller. Sure, nothing was going to fix the damage that had been done, but suddenly revenge seemed so much more attainable. Not just attainable, but absolutely certain. “We’ll tell Angel Wesley’s idea tomorrow. And then we’ll take that bitch down.”

“The whole damn law firm with her,” Gunn added as he drained the last of his beer.

There were smiles all around at that, even if they weren’t quite as smiley as they would have been if Willow hadn’t had her guts ripped out by Buffy and Giles, and Cordelia had the oddest wave of nostalgia. Their group – it was sort of like what they’d all been like in the beginning, back in Sunnydale. Only this time it was even better because she wasn’t hanging onto the fringes by Xander’s coattails.

Willow would see that, too. She’d have to see – see that this was way better than the Scooby Gang. And she’d be happy. She would.

Tomorrow. Everything would be much better tomorrow.

The sounds of an action film filled with car chases (or, more precisely, car _wrecks_) filled the background as Xander and Anya and Dawn sat in the living room of the apartment, trying to avoid the elephant in the room…and failing, of course.

“You can’t hate Buffy forever,” Xander said.

He expected her to be petulant and argue, but instead what she said was, “I know. And I don’t hate her. At least I don’t think so. I’m just mad because she’s doing everything wrong.”

Anya patted Dawn stiffly on the head. “That’s very grown-up of you.” But then she paused and said, “It’s okay if _I_ hate Buffy, right? Because she’s not _my_ sister, and…”

“An,” Xander interrupted gently.

“Okay, okay. I won’t hate her either. I suppose it would be very unpleasant to fight evil with her and see her at the Magic Box every day if I hated her anyway.” She had to admit that given who Buffy was, her attitude sort of made sense, at least right now. “Buffy _will_ forgive Willow, right? And then we can all go see her and maybe she can even come back and visit since she seems to have control over her magic and all.”

“She totally has to,” Dawn agreed, grasping at the straw of happiness Anya offered. “I mean, sooner or later she has to realize that Willow did her a big favor making her give up on her stupid Angel-fantasy. He’s always been a big, ugly creep. Now all that needs to happen is for Willow and Spike to see that and then everything will be perfect.”

“Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be extra nice and try to slip in little bits of advice and stuff, just to help things along,” Dawn added, giddy as a plan formed. She’d fix things. She would. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, really soon, she’d make everything the way it should be.

Xander just smiled, trying to keep any of the sadness he felt off his face. Because things were not only never going to be the same, they wouldn’t even be close.

Oh sure, he was already past the stage of hating and blaming Buffy. He’d known her for too long not to understand what drove her and he loved Anya so much that the last sparks of the torch he’d once carried had long since gone out, leaving him able to feel compassion for that hopeless obsession Buffy had with Angel, the obsession that he knew would always come between her and her friends, between her and happiness. And it was that obsession which meant that, no matter how hard Dawn tried – how hard _Buffy_ tried – things had broken and would never be put back together again.

Hell. He was tired. Tired and sad and worried about Willow and maybe he was just being melodramatic. Maybe he was putting too much stock in his own thoughts. When had he ever been the think-y guy anyway? He was wrong, right? He had to be wrong.

Tomorrow… Tomorrow things would look brighter. Because no matter what, Willow was still his friend. That was never going to change. He was a carpenter and carpenters built things. How hard could it be to rebuild his life to keep Willow in it? Tomorrow he would talk to Anya and they’d figure things out.

Everything was going to be different, sure, but it was still going to be fine.

Buffy sat upstairs in what had once been Willow’s room, holding a t-shirt her friend had left behind and feeling the damp of tears on her cheeks.

She had everything Angel had ever given her still, even the poetry. Someday, maybe she’d even read it. There was a box in the back of her closet full of mementos, and she wondered why she wasn’t pulling things out of it right now, why she was in this room instead.

But maybe she knew, or she _would_ know someday soon…frighteningly soon.

Someday she would wake up and have to face that what had been destroyed today wasn’t a great romantic love, but a friendship that meant more than what she’d shared with Angel ever had.

But she wasn’t going to face it now. She _couldn’t_ face it now. Because everything she’d been and done for so long depended on ‘Buffy and Angel forever’. How was she supposed to look back at all that time and the people she’d hurt and say that it had all been for…nothing? Nothing but a first love that was just that: first – not first, last and always.

She threw the t-shirt across the room and ran to the safety of her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her and heading straight for the closet. It was time to finally read those Portuguese sonnets. But it was so hard through all the tears.

All she could think as she read was that these poems would make so much more sense if Willow were here to explain them to her.

She closed the book and curled up on the floor. It wasn’t long before she cried herself to sleep.

Tomorrow…tomorrow, Dawn would be home and Giles would be here and things would be better, right?

The sex had been frenzied, wild, almost surprisingly so, but now it was over and the room was still and quiet.

Angel had gone to check on Connor and Willow lay beside Spike, marveling at the way his chest never rose or fell, at the way it was impossible to tell if he was asleep.

He wasn’t. “I can hear you thinking,” he said in a low voice without a trace of his usual humour.

She laid her head against his shoulder and said something she’d known for a long time. “You’re never going to love me. Not ever.”

It wasn’t a question and Spike didn’t treat it as one. “No.” There were so many other things he could have added, but sometimes keeping it simple was the most honest…and the safest.

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind.”

Was she lying? Hard to tell. Or maybe it was true after a fashion. You never knew with Willow. She seemed so able to settle. Spike decided to say nothing, to just let the statement stand.

“Hey,” Angel’s voice was jarring and they both started.

“Hey,” Willow mirrored.

Without even thinking about it, Angel slipped out of the pajama bottoms he’d donned to go play with his son. It was still so strange to him how much he loved all the little things about being a father…how grateful he was that he even got to be one. But he was just as grateful for this – the ability to be with the woman he loved, even with Spike as part of the equation.

He knew that Willow was in pain, that she missed Buffy and Giles, that the fact that they hated her was agonizing, but she’d heal. She had Spike’s friendship and his love and that last would be important someday.

Getting into bed, he let his hands ghost over Willow’s soft skin and caught the grin creeping up the side of Spike’s mouth. They’d take it slow this time. And tomorrow… Tomorrow they’d get down to the business of making Wolfram and Hart pay – and of building a life that centered around the three of them. No more of the threads that tied any of them to Sunnydale remained.

Life was going to be good. Willow would see.

She moaned as he entered her, eyes shining with what he wished weren’t tears. But if they were there now, then they would be some of the last.

They were going to be happy – he and Willow and Spike – they were going to be very, very happy. Angel knew that and it was truth.

The End.


End file.
